


H.O.P.E.

by apenny12



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Falling In Love, Friendship, Horror, Love, Post Season 5 MSF, Reunions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 13:56:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 110,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2735087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apenny12/pseuds/apenny12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years have passed since that fateful day at Grady Memorial Hospital and he still sees her. Blond hair and blue eyes haunt him every night while he sleeps and he knows he will never recover from the loss of her. When an unlikely duo appears in front of their gates, how will Daryl handle the girl in his dreams walking back into his life? Hold on…Pain Ends-H.O.P.E. *Post S5 MSF*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:**  A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

 **THANK YOU** Nicole, my wonderful BETA, for encouraging me to keep writing and support all the crazy ideas I throw at you! You're the best! XX

 **A/N: THIS DOES INVOLVE INFORMATION FROM THE COMICS, BUT I HAVE CHANGED DETAILS AND SCENES TO FIT MY STORY** …So it should be spoiler free!

HUGE,  _HUGE,_   ** _HUUUUUGE_**  thank you to  **Sarakaroline8**  and  **Nicole** for putting up with in incessant questioning about the Alexandria Safe-Zone. You can only absorb so much from reading the comics once and they gave me so much insight on a topic I was completely unfamiliar with. After watching the MSF of season 5 I was so heartbroken (if you can't tell from my one-shot  _A Memoir in the Apocalypse_ ) and then I found a wonderful post from  **stydiaeverafter**  on tumblr about the possibility of Beth surviving her gunshot wound. While I know this won't happen in the series…Beth is dead…I will happily live in denial and pretend the MSF didn't end Beth the way we saw. I HAD to make  **stydieverafter** 's theory into a fanfic! So here we are! This story will take place AFTER the mid-season finale (MSF) of season 5.

I also wanted to give a quick thank you to all of my reviewers! You guys have been IMMENSELY supportive. I WILL finish Sometimes When Things Go Wrong… and I WILL begin working on For the Ones You Protect. Seems like I'm going to have to re-write season 5 the way it SHOULD have gone. However, with the lack of inspiration I had after last week's episode, getting that spark again from all the theories was a sign. I'm hoping that by writing this story it will help overcome my low spot so I can start writing my other stories again! Thank you guys for being so understanding! I hope I make all of you and Emily Kinney proud with this story! XOXO

...

Gasping for air, Daryl shot up from where he lay in bed, awoken from yet another nightmare. The dreams were generally similar as he cycled through different scenarios, but every night he would dream of  _her_. He'd always be reaching out, trying to save  _her_ , but wouldn't get there in time. Sometimes she'd be swarmed by walkers, other times she was gunned down in front of him. In the worst ones, he'd be enveloped by darkness, seeing nothing in whichever direction that he looked, but he could hear  _her_. He could  _hear_  everything, but he was never able to find her. Tonight was no different. He could see her blue eyes, sharp and determined, and her blond hair flowing around her, but after three years he'd started forgetting the sound of her voice. While he hated his dreams, they were the only way he could hear her anymore.

There was a knock on his door and Daryl wiped his hands over his face before begrudgingly leaving his room to see who was calling on him at such an early hour.

"Dwight?" Daryl squinted his eyes as the sunrise cascaded across his face, "You got a reason t'be here at six in the fuckin' mornin'?"

"Rise an' shine man," Dwight smirked tiredly, "We got two people at the gates. Older man claims he knows Rick."

"Alright," Daryl said with a nod, "I'll be right there."

With that he shut his front door and grabbed his boots from beside the couch. Hastily tying the laces, he shrugged his crossbow over his shoulder and left his home.

It was a five minute walk to the front gates and the streets were empty as most were still asleep in their comfortable beds. Daryl wished he could have done the same, but he knew peaceful slumber would elude him so he declined the notion in favor of getting an early start to his day.

"They outside?" Daryl asked as he moved to stand beside Dwight.

"Yup," Dwight gestured to the group of men blocking their view of the newcomers, "Older man and a younger girl. They've been on the road a while."

Daryl nodded, understanding Dwight's subtle hint. Being on the road a while was the equivalent of 'they look rough, are packing heat, and should be considered dangerous until proven otherwise.'

A few years back they recruited outsider's to join their community. Aaron would follow a group to make sure they weren't raging lunatics and if they were deemed acceptable he would approach the survivors with an invitation to speak with their leader, who inevitably passed the final judgment. Aaron always had Eric close by to handle business if things went bad. It wasn't until the incident where Eric had been stabbed and his horse stolen that Rick ended the recruiting company, claiming it was too dangerous to continue. Now if outsider's happened to stumble upon their safe haven, they were interviewed at the gate. If they were approved, they were taken to Rick, who would decide whether they were allowed to stay. They were given a trial run for the first few weeks, not allowed their weapons during the initial period, and were monitored until they were no longer considered a threat. It wasn't a perfect strategy, but it worked for them.

"Bes' get this over with," Daryl grumbled, dropping his crossbow to the ground and knocking back a bolt.

He approached the guards, nodding to one of them as he held his crossbow firmly, and then they were moving out of his way and Daryl was able to see their visitors for the time. His breath caught in his throat and he had to blink several times to make sure he wasn't imagining what he was seeing.

In front of him stood a woman who looked to be in her late teens - early twenties. There was a dangerous air about her, accented by the seventeen inch blade that extended past her hand where she gripped the handle of the forearm machete that was strapped tightly just under her elbow. Her left hand rested on the pistol holstered around her hip while her stunning blue eyes watched him; clear and cautious. Her long, blond hair, much longer than he remembered, was braided and the ends brushed against the machete strap on her right arm. She had a scar on her right cheek and another across the left side of her forehead. However the most telling characteristic was the circular scar at the top-right side of her forehead.

Daryl wasn't sure when he had dropped his crossbow, but with the sudden wave of nausea that had him unsteady on his feet, he was grateful his hands were empty so he could brace himself against his knees. He felt dizzy, like the world was turning upside-down, and in a way…it had.

There in front of him, next to an older, black man, stood Beth Greene.

The same girl that had haunted his dreams over the past three years was alive and standing outside of the gates to his home. She had been shot…a through and through. Her blood had been on his lips…on Rick's neck…on his hands as he carried her. They had  _buried_  her! He had dug her grave, Father Gabriel had delivered a eulogy while everyone mourned for her, and they had  _buried her_! For her to be standing in front of him was… _impossible_.

"Daryl?" He felt Dwight's hand rest on his shoulder.

"How…" He pushed himself to stand upright, "How tha'  _fuck_  are you here?"

He took a step toward them, but was stopped when her companion took a step slightly in front of her and raised his machete.

"Son," the black man began firmly, "We don't want no trouble. I jus' want to talk to Rick. We heard he was the leader of this establishment."

Dwight immediately raised his gun and pointed it at the duo, "Drop your weapon," he hissed.

Daryl's eyes never left the girl in front of him. He was slowly beginning to catch his breath, but the constricting ache in his chest refused to subside. Then she spoke and Daryl felt like his heart was going to burst.

"It's okay," she wrapped her free hand around her companion's arm and the machete slowly lowered back to the man's side.

Daryl was having a hard time keeping his thoughts coherent, but he needed answers. He needed to know how she had survived. He hadn't checked for a pulse, but she'd been  _shot_  through the  _head_  and her body had already grown cold before they had lowered her into the ground. He wanted answers.

"You were dead. I carried you down five flights of stairs and out of that hospital. You…you were  _shot_! You were  _dead_! I buried you… _we_  buried you… _how_ …" he was beginning to hyperventilate.

Beth calmly stepped forward until she was standing in front of him. With a shaky hand, he tentatively reached out for her. The tips of his fingers ghosted over the scar of her bullet wound and grazed her cheek as he lost the strength to hold him limb in the air and his hand flopped back to his side. She was  _real_.

Her eyes danced between his, but she said nothing.

He could taste salt in his mouth and felt a chill to the air that breezed against the wet streaks trailing down his cheeks. People were murmuring around him, but he couldn't make out their words. For the moment, it was just him and the woman he had thought he'd lost.

His eyes fluttered closed when she brought her hand up and wiped the tears from his face and he felt a sort of elation that had escaped him since that day at the hospital. He instinctively turned into her touch, relishing the warmth of her skin that was such a stark contrast to the last time he had held her.

Everything in the world was suddenly  _right_. Beth was alive.  _Beth was alive_! She wasn't dead and buried in the shallow grave they had managed to create for her. She hadn't been erased from this cursed planet. She was  _alive_ , and  _breathing_ , and  _warm_.

Her hand fell away much too soon and he opened his eyes to take in the sight of her. Her golden hair glowed in the rays of the rising sun and he felt…complete. He had a million questions he wanted to ask her, ask the older man with her, but he didn't want to ruin the moment.

He could tell she was searching for something, but of what he could not say. However, one thing Daryl had learned in this cold, hard world was that things were  _always_  too good to be true. Just as quickly as his world had righted itself, he plummeted from the high he had reached and the enchantment was shattered by the words that flowed from her lips.

" _Who are you_?"

**...**

**A/N:** Welcome to Denial-Land everyone! Population: The Bethyl Fandom (Need incentive? We have Worker's Compensation for actors who are abruptly axed from their shows without appropriate warning due to overall terrible writing and poor decision making by the big wigs!) Join today! ;^ P Lol

Chapter 2 will give more detail on the people mentioned here and life in Alexandria so if you aren't sure what Alexandria is about, don't worry! I'll fill you in! If you don't know what a forearm machete is (if you've ever played the BloodRayne video games, then you'll know what I'm talking about) then you can google it! They are AWESOME! It's very reminiscent of Merle's contraption after he lost his arm. It would probably be my weapon of choice should a zombie apocalypse ever  _actually_ occur!

So I took some liberties with the comic because the events of the T.V. have taken a different route. I'm convinced that Beth was killed in order to bring out Maggie's 'craziness' like happens in the comics. I don't' see them killing off who Negan really kills (in the comics) in the show, but I said the same for Beth…so who knows.

I tried my best to mesh the comics and the T.V. show together. For the characters still alive, I've taken what they're doing straight out of the comics. For those who are dead in the comics, I had to do the best I could to fit them into the community. Obviously certain events from the comics didn't take place (such as Morgan meeting with the group much earlier in the comics and going with them to Alexandria), but he's there all the same! I did my best to keep things 'fictionally realistic' and as most of you know, I'm a stickler for details, so I was very thorough with my research before I even began writing! I hope you guys enjoyed this! Please let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**  A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

 **THANK YOU** Nicole for getting BOTH chapters edited in one day for me! You're amazing!

 **A/N:** I am especially proud of this chapter! I kept it as realistic as possible so I hope you enjoy!

**.** **..**

Morgan had been walking for hours, following the markers carved into the tree trunks that led him to some unknown destination. He was alone, as he had preferred to be back then. The weight of Duane's death haunted his every waking moment and invaded his dreams. No parent should ever go before their child, and yet it was Duane's own mother who had taken their son from him. So with nothing left, he'd begun to 'clear.'

After his encounter with Rick, he'd started to come back into his own. Rick had lost his wife, but he still had his boy, and he had taken in people at the nearby prison. The ex-sheriff deputy was trying to make a place in this world for people to live.  _That_ was something worth fighting for. However, when he had finally decided to accept his friends' offer to join them at the prison; he'd stumbled across the burned remains of a warzone.

He had taken a moment to bid his farewell to the noble man and his son, believing no one could have survived such a horrendous scene, and kept moving. Travelling for several miles he'd come across a map beside the railroad tracks that marked the location of a place called Terminus, thus he set his next destination. However, a few days later, on the last leg of his journey, he'd seen a sign marked ' **NO**  SANCTUARY.' At a loss for what to do next, he'd stood staring into the woods for an uncertain amount of time. It was while staring into the distance that he'd noticed the markings on the trees and with no end goal in mind; he was content to just keep moving.

He'd first come across what had once been an elementary school. Finding nothing of use outside the building, not bothering to enter in order to avoid hearing the ghostly echoes of children's laughter that his brain might conjure, he'd approached the doors and stopped in front of a dismembered walker. Crouching down by the once female human being, he'd deduced it was missing its lower half from being cut in two by the glass window as it had tried to climb through the opening of the sealed doors. He'd effortlessly jabbed the knife through its temple and then his eyes had searched the trees, finding more markings, allowing him to continue on his way.

His next stop was a fortified church. If the shattered doors and demolished front steps were any indication, their fortifications had failed. The bloodstains on the floor painted a picture of tragic deaths as yet another group or individual that had fallen to the walkers.

After a quick prayer, leaving the few items he'd been able to spare in an attempt to tithe, he'd smiled and laughed at himself for still believing 'the man upstairs' was looking out for mankind. As he stood he had noticed a tattered map on the floor. The moment he'd picked up the map, his entire way of life had changed.

Rick Grimes was  _alive_ …or he had been fairly recently.

The state of the church had him wondering exactly what had gone on in these four walls that would leave so much blood and a map with Rick's name written in the bottom corner abandoned on the floor. He'd frantically searched the interior of the church for any signs of life, that the group may still be nearby, but he found nothing.

Walking around the church, he had hoped to find a fire pit of some sort that might've given him more of an idea how long ago the group had passed through, but stopped his search when a distortion on the church caught his eye.

"You will burn for this," he'd murmured to himself as his fingers traced the words carved into the siding of the church, "We're  _all_  gonna' burn for what we've done."

 _Thou shalt not kill_  was a commandment he'd broken more often than not. He had wondered, one night when he was left with nothing but his thoughts, if killing walkers added to the list of death's he carried on his shoulders. Walkers were clearly  _not_ human…but they had been at one point. People died in some manner or another, and if they came back they craved the flesh of their fellow man, but what were these things that rose from the ground? Abominations was the only fitting term he could come up with, however, there had been plenty of  _humans_ he had considered monsters as well. Those were the ones he'd been forced to kill. It was either kill or die…or die and kill anyway.

Shaking himself from his thoughts he continued around the church when a spot of color in the tall, green grass caught his attention. After further inspection he'd realized it was a person and rushed over to help. It was only when he was upon them did he understand exactly what it was he'd seen.

A girl, no older than twenty, lay with her torso sprawled over the grass, buried from the waist down. By the looks of her, she'd been completely buried and in her reanimated state had managed to claw her way out. Pulling out his knife, he had squatted down next to the corpse, intent on ending it before it harmed anyone else passing by.

The small figured had groaned so loudly that he'd had to close his eyes to keep the overwhelming sadness of yet another young life lost to this cruel world at bay. In the same way he'd ended the walker at the school, he'd reached around, ready to press his blade through the creature's temple when it groaned once more.

" _Water_ …"

He'd been so confused in that moment that he had literally just sat there; waiting to make sure what he'd heard had been an actual word and not some intangible gurgling.

" _Please…water…_ "

Glancing up at the cross staked at the head of her 'grave,' he'd read the name  _Beth_ , carved into the right side of a tree limb. Next to it had been another grave, unmarked, with two sticks tied together with twine.

"I'm gonna' help you," he'd said quickly, "It's a miracle walkers haven't got t'you."

Then again, it was a miracle she was even alive, he'd thought while reaching into his pack. He had pulled out his only water bottle and gently lifted her high enough to be able to drink. It was that moment that had been forever burned into his memory. The girl greedily drinking the water he'd offered had been shot, a through and through if the blood in her hair was from an exit wound.

She was young, helpless, and left by her group, believing the girl they had placed in the grave to be dead. He hadn't blamed them. He, himself, had trouble believing she had  _survived_. It was while he'd looked into her confused, unfocused blue eyes that he began to understand why he'd taken the path that had led him here.

He was  _meant_  to find this girl; meant to  _help_  her.

Glancing up at the sky, he'd furrowed his brows and gave a firm nod in acquiescence.

He would save this girl…he would save Beth.

…

She'd slept for days after he'd dug her out of the ground. Sometimes her pulse had been so weak, and her breathing so shallow, that he was sure she wasn't going to make it. He'd soon learned not to underestimate her. This girl was a  _fighter_. With each breath she took, she continued to fight and every day that she had survived, his respect for her had grown.

He'd stayed at the church, having nowhere else to go that would be any safer, and nursed her back to health. The elementary school hadn't been pillaged and while searching the nurses' office, he'd found a few meager antibiotics for children no longer of this world and healing ointments that would help in her recovery. He had done all he could in aiding her recuperation, keeping the wound clean, bandaged, and administering whatever medications he could that were appropriate for her condition, but it had ultimately come down to sheer luck and Beth's will to live that had accounted for her survival.

Although once she had regained consciousness, he'd realized she hadn't come out of her injury completely 'whole.' For the first year or so, her speech had been slurred, but as time continued to heal her, her speech had gradually returned to what he'd assumed was 'normal.'

There was also her problem with telling right from left. She knew there was a  _right_  side and a  _left_  side, but her brain couldn't distinguish the difference. He'd also noticed how quickly her moods changed, as if she had no way to regulate how she felt. Not being from a medical background, he'd only been able to assume these issues were because of the internal damage she'd suffered from her wound. However, after two years, she'd learned tricks to telling the difference between each side and seemed to have her emotions under control.

She'd also had trouble moving around, unable to walk entirely at first, but she had refused to give up. After a few months of rehabilitation she had been unsteady on her feet and unable to make certain parts of her move the way she wanted, but after three years, she was fending off walkers and moving as quickly as he did. She had recovered so much that he trusted her completely to have his back.

If not for the circular blemish on her forehead, he would have never known she'd been shot, save for the fact that she had no memories. She didn't know who she was, where she'd come from, or who she'd been travelling with. He'd known her name was Beth only because of the courtesy someone had taken to mark her grave. She was able to create new memories, retain information, but anything that had happened  _before_  her fateful encounter was lost. She still struggled from time to time, but she was probably as 'healed' as she ever would be.

Staring at her through the flames of their campfire, Morgan let a small smile cross his lips. She was an impressive one, this girl, and she had a stubborn streak like no other with an iron will to match. There were some days that he felt like  _she_  had been the one to keep  _him_ going.

"When d'you think we'll reach D.C.?" She asked, completely oblivious to his reminiscent thoughts.

"Shouldn't be too much longer," he answered her quietly.

"You really think this 'Rick Grimes' person is still alive?" She raised an eyebrow defiantly, "It's been what? Three years since you found that map?"

Morgan gave her a flat stare, "Well if I hadn't stopped to help someone who had decided to crawl out of the grave they'd been put in, I'm sure I'd have already caught up with him."

She nodded and if she noticed his lack of answering her directly, she didn't comment.

A tense silence settled between them and Morgan knew she felt guilty. None of it was her fault. She'd been left for dead, albeit unknowingly, and he'd been the one to find her. He was convinced it was what he was destined to do, a sort of way to redeem himself for Duane's death, and he never once blamed her or resented her for anything. It was quite the opposite.

He'd decided to hold off on his trip to Washington until she was capable of taking care of herself. Staying at the church and then later moving around to other places after she'd been able to walk. In truth, he could have probably made for Washington a year or two ago, but he was no longer desperate to find Rick…or not find him. When he'd found Beth, she'd become his priority, and it was only because of her insistent nagging the past six months that he'd finally given in and decided to seek out his long lost friend…if he hadn't died in that church three years ago, which was another reason he was in no hurry to make the trip. He wasn't even sure if Rick Grimes was still alive.

"Hey Morgan?" She interrupted his thoughts once more.

"Yeah?" He looked up at her.

She was chewing on her bottom lip, a clear indication that she was nervous or upset.

"I'm sorry…for…ya' know…" she quietly apologized.

Guilt; that was the reason behind the lip chewing. She was feeling like a burden, as she often did when mention of their first encounter was brought up. She blamed herself for him not being reunited with a friend he was already sure was dead. He'd told her over and over again that he'd  _chosen_  to help her and he could have easily ignored her pleas for help, but Beth was nothing if not considerate. She had a heart ten times the size of his and could be just as gentle as she was fiercely protective.

"Don't be sorry," Morgan firmly replied, "Don't  _ever_ be sorry."

Because just as much as he had saved her,  _she_ had saved  _him_.

…

"I told you that you've got t'be careful," Morgan scolded as he removed the machete strapped to her arm in order to inspect the wound.

"I try, but it's kinda' hard to know you've been hurt when you can't  _feel_  it," she argued.

Yet another long term effect from her brain damage was the loss of the ability to feel pain. She could feel sensations on her skin, touch, heat, cold, etcetera, but she couldn't respond appropriately to pain. It no longer existed to her. The discovery had been made last year when they'd been jumped by a guy intent on taking their belongings; believing an older man and younger girl to be easy targets. The man had managed to land a good hit on his face, knocking him off his feet, and just as their attacker had made the move to end him, Beth had jumped into the fray.

By the time he'd gotten back to his feet, Beth had been pinned to the ground with a knife aimed at her chest. The more disturbing part had been that Beth had fended his assault off by holding the blade of a knife as if she were holding its handle. She'd managed to knee him in the groin and trade positions, using the man's own weapon to ensure he wouldn't reanimate. She never flinched while he'd stitched the deep gashes in her hand back together and when asked; she'd said she 'couldn't feel a thing.' Her lack of pain during her recuperation suddenly made perfect sense, though he wasn't sure if her condition was a blessing or a curse.

" _You_  feel when you get cut," she went on to say, " _I_  just feel like I bumped into something."

They'd been searching through an abandoned house for supplies when she found a locked door. Locked doors always carried the prospect of untouched items inside so she'd busted the glass of one of the French doors and ultimately caught her arm on a remaining jagged shard while reaching through to unlock the door. It wasn't until Morgan noticed the trail of blood that was dripping down her arm that she'd realized she'd hurt herself…again.

"I know hun," Morgan sighed, "But that's why you gotta' be extra careful."

Beth stared at him for a long moment while he finished cleaning off the gash on her upper arm.

"I'll try t'be more careful," she said to him; her tone genuine.

"That's my girl," Morgan accepted with a smile, "You're good t'go. Let's get back on the road."

With a few useful items they'd looted from the untouched office, a letter opener, cigarette lighter, and a notepad to use as tinder, Morgan followed behind Beth as they exited the house and resumed their trek towards Washington.

…

They had woken up early and decided to get moving. If they made good time, they would be in Washington no later than noon, so long as they didn't have to take any more detours. While the line on the map was a straight shot, they had been forced to find alternate routes around the walker infested areas. They would have to go through a small part of Virginia to get back on track, but he felt like they were making good time, all things considered.

"Morgan," the tone of Beth's voice immediately sent up a red flag.

Looking up from the map Morgan could make out several walkers who had forced a man and woman into the bed of a dilapidated pick-up truck. He knew what she planned to do the moment he realized the stranger's predicament.

"Beth…now let's think this through," he tried as she unlatched her machete hooked to her pack, abandoning the backpack on the ground, and strapped her weapon around her arm.

They'd struck gold when they'd found her blade. Rummaging through the remains of a pawn shop, he had heard a racket, assuming walkers had entered the building, and rushed to the front where Beth had been scavenging. He was pleasantly surprised, if not a little shocked, to find her sifting through years old trash. He had been ready to question her when she'd pulled out a few weapons from the bottom of the trash bag. Someone seemed to have stashed them in the trash in the hopes of keeping them from being stolen, but by the stench in the fabric of the forearm machete, that person had long since abandoned their stockpile.

It had taken a few days of airing out to get the smell out of the material, but once the seventeen inch blade was attached to her arm, Beth had taken to her machete like it was an extension of herself. A uniquely shaped blade had caught his attention as well and he had soon found himself quite attached to his own weapon.

"Don't have time. You can sit this one out if you want?" She smirked over her shoulder.

It was times like this that he regretted how much time he'd spent working with her, ensuring she could defend herself, teaching her everything he had learned in regards to combatting the monstrosities, living and undead alike. After a year to heal and two years of constant sparring, she'd been able to pin him down more times than he'd care to admit.

With a relenting sigh, Morgan unsheathed the Kopis machete hanging from his hip. She  _knew_  there was no way he would let her handle the walkers on her own, not because he thought she  _couldn't_ , but because he would do whatever it took to keep her out of harm's way.

"We flank them. Draw them away from the truck. You come to me if they start surrounding ya'. We stay back t'back if we get stuck," he said in an authoritative tone.

"Like we always do," Beth replied with a smile.

He had initially thought that as he and Beth cleared away some of the walker's, the man and woman would jump down and assist them taking out of the rest, however, it wasn't until they were knee deep in walker guts that they realized the pair in the truck were weaponless. They deserved to die for their stupidity, but Morgan knew Beth would never stand by and allow such to happen, and he would feel guilty knowing he'd ignored someone who was in dire need of help.

He kept her in his peripheral at all times, gauging the number of walkers purusing the streak of blond that bobbed and weaved between them. If they could get inside the bed of the truck, they could easily end the monsters from their height advantage. It would've been like shooting fish in a barrel, but the closer they got to the truck, the more walkers they attracted, and thus they were left luring the walkers away in order to behead them in smaller clusters.

He plunged his machete into the neck of an approaching walker. The idea had been to keep the oncoming monster at arm's length while he stomped the head in of a particularly stubborn walker he already sliced in half, now clawing at his feet. With the walker on the ground taken care of and the one in front of him pinned at the hilt of his weapon, he turned to check on Beth. Finding her nowhere in sight, panic began to ebb in his stomach as his eyes darted around where he had last seen her. A sudden pressure on the side he was turned away from immediately grabbed his attention and he found his target. Pressed with her back against his side, Beth was using the metal brace of her forearm machete to block the gnashing teeth that would likely have been taking chunks out of his arm had she not intervened.

Flipping the blade of his weapon over within the walkers neck, Morgan yanked his machete in an upwards direction, vertically slicing the walkers head in two. He then turned, keeping Beth's back in his chest to support the weight of the walker bearing down on her, and reached around to impale his machete into the side of the walkers head. The teeth chomping at her brace immediately ceased movement as the abomination dropped to the ground.

They didn't have a moment to appreciate the fact that they were both still intact, with more walkers heading their direction, but Morgan did take the time to note how thankful he was to have someone like Beth watching his back. After traveling and being alone for so long, finding Beth and the years they had spent together had changed him. He couldn't bear the thought of not being nearby to help keep her safe and he  _definitely_  didn't want the silence that she filled with her witty remarks and relentless badgering about his wellbeing to return.

"That's the last of them," Beth remarked, stumbling over her feet a bit.

While she generally had complete control over her body, there were times such as these, after a particularly intense situation, where she reverted back to how she'd been a few years ago. He could only guess it was attributed to the adrenaline leaving her system and her brain trying to keep up with her commands because after she calmed down she would be fine.

Morgan placed his hands on Beth's shoulders, silently steadying her. Once she had nodded that she was 'okay' he allowed her to move from his grasp. She turned to the two people jumping down from the truck, faces expressing awe at the mass of undead bodies littering the ground, and addressed them in a flippant tone.

"You shouldn't use an axe," Beth commented from a short distance away.

"There weren't supposed to be this many walkers this close by," the man replied briskly.

Morgan smiled. He'd been on the receiving end of Beth's ability to emasculate the male gender and would have sympathized with the man if not for his detest of their stupidity.

She was struggling to yank the axe from where it had imbedded through a walker's head and into the ground, and in a thoughtless moment, he had moved to assist her. The glare Beth sent him had Morgan holding up his hands in mock surrender and remaining where he stood with an amused expression. After the third tug, she pulled the axe free of the earth and stepped over the bodies littering the ground to hand it to the man with her weaponless hand.

"What d'you mean there 'weren't supposed to be so many walkers'?" Morgan asked once Beth had settled beside him.

"Means the herders ain't doin' their job," the stranger's reply came out sounding bitter.

"Alex," the woman quipped beside him.

Morgan glanced down at Beth who gave him a look of confusion that mirrored his own.

"Herders?" Beth asked with a tilt of her head.

"It's fine Anna," Alex pacified, "We owe these people our lives."

"We don't know them," Anna said through gritted teeth.

Morgan watched the two bicker, wondering if he should be insulted for the two strangers not considering he and Beth a threat after they had witnessed them handle so many walkers. Then again, he supposed they just assumed them to be decent enough considering they'd stuck their necks out for them when they had no reason to help. They could have just as easily let the walkers have them and stole their possessions after the smaller herd had left.

"It's fine. You should thank them. If not for them you wouldn't be makin' it to see your beau," there was a teasing tone to Alex's voice.

"Leave Carl out of this," Anna focused her attention back on Beth and himself.

The name, Carl, suddenly struck a chord with Morgan. He  _knew_  that name, but couldn't place why it was of such importance.

"We got us a few communities set up. They're walled…safe…people aren't just surviving, but we're thriving. Herders are in charge of leadin' the bigger groups of walkers away from the trade routes and the general population," Alex explained before continuing, "They interview people t'see if they're… _good._  If they can fit back into society. I can't guarantee they'll take you in, if you're lookin' for sanctuary, but if you tell Rick what happened here, he may give you a chance."

"Carl…Rick…" Morgan murmured to himself.

"We're on our way to Hilltop, but just mention that you met Alex and Anna and that should be enough to get Rick to see you," Alex elaborated further.

"Rick  _Grimes_?" Morgan suddenly connected the dots, "Rick Grimes is alive?"

Alex eyed him skeptically before nodding, "Yeah. He's in charge of Alexandria. It's just a few miles down the road. You can't miss it."

Morgan took a deep breath and looked up to the sky. He'd been wrong, back at the church, when he had doubted if there was someone still up there who cared about them. Obviously Rick Grimes had him a guardian angel, his boy too, because for so long he had believed them to be dead. He held no hope that he would find the man who had been so lost and confused when they'd first met, just after things had went bad. He had thought that he and Beth would get to the location marked on their map, find it infested with the dead, and continue on their way.

"Looks like we're goin' to Alexandria," Beth's smile could be seen through the lilt in her voice.

"Looks like," Morgan replied contentedly.

…

Parting ways with Alex and Anna, Morgan and Beth had walked with greater vigor in their step, covering the distance to Alexandria in record time. After so many years on the road, he was finally going to reunite with his long-lost friend. He could finally help Rick the way Rick had helped him. He would be able to repay his debt.

Alexandria was a sight to behold. It was a few miles from Washington, located in Alexandria, Virginia, and he could see why people were surviving. The strong, intimidating walls seemed to reach the sky, protecting the houses within. The enormous metal gate was guarded by watchtowers and patrolmen. They were organized and a sense of security radiated from the community.

Approaching the walls, voices began yelling at them to stop where they stood, but Morgan felt undeterred. The smile on his face, marveling at what lay before him and how close he was to  _finally_  finding a place that would keep them safe, reached all the way to his eyes. Beth however, hadn't seemed as enthused as she cautiously strapped her machete back on her arm. He knew it was more to give her a sense of security, but he felt as if they had nothing to fear. If Rick was in charge of this place, then these were good people.

Wrapping his hand around Beth's much smaller one, he gave it a gentle squeeze before stepping forward and addressing the men pointing guns at them.

"My name is Morgan Jones and I'm a friend of Rick Grimes. We mean you no harm. We've been on the road and just want to rest our feet," he said calmly.

One man in particular, one side of his face scarred and mangled, lowered his weapon and replied, "You know Rick?"

"I know Rick," Morgan nodded and felt his chest swell with satisfaction.

_They had finally caught up with Rick Grimes._

_..._

**A/N:** The line "Don't ever be sorry" is from season 3 episode 12 'Clear' when Carl apologizes to Morgan for shooting him. The line "…kill or die…or die and kill…" is from 4 episode 16 'Welcome to the Tombs' by the Governor to Milton in regards to making him turn so he could fulfill his order to kill Andrea. Just FYI : )

The Kopis machete is name for the style of the blade. Not an important detail but I get bored with the lack of imagination put into weapons sometimes. I'm a sucker for details!

Alex is from The Hilltop colony in the comics. Anna, also in the comics, originates from Alexandria.

Chapter 2 will pick up where the prologue left off! Backstory was necessary so we could understand the relationship between Morgan and Beth as it is presented to Daryl (and others). 3 years is a long time to be in only each other's company so Morgan has become a father figure to Beth, and she has filled the Duane sized hole in his heart!

 _A few facts_ …. Okay! So I felt it was more important to hear Morgan's perspective here because I honestly don't think Beth would have much of a 'thought process' in the beginning. Sleeping and healing wouldn't engage in much storytelling and we needed to know where Morgan had been to get him to finding Beth at the church. The story I depicted here is actually what happens to Morgan. Through snippets Kirkman has revealed and the two minute video (the full scene of what was aired at the end of the MSF…you can watch it on YouTube) I was able to get him from 'clearing' to finding Beth. I'm sure in the show they'll bury her somewhere outside of Atlanta, but according the map that Morgan finds, Atlanta is south of the church and the route Abraham marked is north…so he would have had no reason to go south to Atlanta, then back north past the church, towards D.C. Also…I didn't want her or Bob to be alone… : ( So I'm going with they went back to the church so she could be given a proper burial.

This is also going to be focused on outsider's perspectives on Beth (mainly Daryl's POV), but I will be having Beth's thoughts in appropriate scenes.

I did a  **TON**  of research on possible outcomes to being shot through the forehead. There are  _a lot_  of variables such as exactly where the bullet penetrates, trajectory of the bullet, gauge of the bullet, and each person's individual ability to heal. People are in face capable of surviving being shot at point blank range, but they are never completely the same. From watching where Beth gets shot (and I could only bare to watch a few times) I guesstimated that she would suffer damage to her Frontal lobe and Parietal lobe (which would possibly cause the issues she has due to each lobes function). Now I am  _NOT_  a doctor nor am I in the medical field, but after reading numerous websites, I learned that in some cases, the brain is capable of healing itself. I won't bore you with the facts, but it basically comes down to whether the neurons are able to create new passageways to replace the damaged ones because once one passageway is cut off, its gone…forever. At least that's my understanding. Therefore, everyone is different and it takes some people years (hence why I placed such a long time gap between the MSF and #Team MorBet…couple resist! The name made me chuckle…getting to Alexandria) to get to a point where they can function normally, if ever at all. Taking into consideration that THIS IS FICTION, I tried to keep it as 'realistic' as possible, having Beth come out with internal scars that will never heal, while essentially keeping her character intact. I would've loved to have made her completely fine…but realistically she wouldn't be and there's only so much you can do before a story becomes too farfetched. I worked really hard on this so I'm hoping what I've imagined here is to everyone's satisfaction. I certainly hope it's better than that garbage Kirkman and Gimple fed us. -_-

So please let me know! I have no idea how long this story will be, but it pretty much depends on the kind of response I get! So spread the word and get #Team Morbet going! LOLOL! Hope everyone is recovering from the MSF and if not, I hope this lifts your spirits a bit! XOXO


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:**  A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

 **THANK YOU** Nicole for editing and urging me to post this! I was having a moment of being...too self-critical and she was as encouraging as ever! Thank you love!

 **A/N:**  So I've discovered one thing about tumblr…with so many posts made in the Bethyl tag, I don't know how many of you who follow me actually SEE what I post (fanfiction wise anyway). So I'm going to link my Twitter account on my profile page. If you want to add me, feel free to do so! If I get a decent number of followers, I'll post chapter updates and such on tumblr, but I'll post more in twitter so you guys can interact with me more! I only use twitter to follow Norman Reedus, Emily Kinney, and some people from  _The 100_ show anyway so I'll be getting better use out of it by posting updates!

…

Morgan watched the scene before him with rapt concentration. While he hadn't believed anyone would outright attack them, the man's initial reaction to Beth had caused him concern. It was obvious that this crossbow-wielding stranger knew her from  _before_ , having said he was there when she was buried, but he wasn't sure what to make of the intensity in which the man was responding to her presence.

Beth hadn't had any qualms with approaching him either. After travelling with her for three years, he'd seen her respond to strangers on numerous occasions, but  _this_ was something he'd never experienced. With her having been stripped of everything that had made her… _her_ ; no past experiences to base her decisions on, no memories of how she'd been raised, no idea who she was as a person, he had seen her struggle to come to terms with who she wanted to be.

While she never thought twice about helping those in need, she asked him to do the talking if they crossed anyone in their travels. She didn't trust easily and always had her weapon ready in case the deal went wrong. He couldn't imagine what it would feel like to wake in the middle of the apocalypse and come to believe this world was the norm. She couldn't remember what electricity or television was like, didn't know how it felt to take a hot bath with running water in a cozy home, she had no memory of what the world was like before the dead rose and began feasting on the living.

How could she trust when the world she knew was full of death and darkness? Beth had only trusted him because he had nursed her back to health and taught her how to take care of herself. He had been there when she had begun making new memories. Morgan had been a constant.

She knew her name was Beth, she knew she had a scar on her wrist, her cheek, and two on her forehead, but no idea how she had gotten them. It was obvious she had been buried by someone she had been traveling with, but beyond that she'd had to reestablish herself. He knew she had to wonder what she had left that was worth fighting for. Besides the obvious, what was the point?  _Why_  did she fight so hard to survive? He had wished he had the answers for her, but the sad truth was that he didn't know Beth any more than she knew herself.

While he may not have known Beth  _before,_ he knew her  _now_. For her to approach this man in such a way had Morgan utterly perplexed. He wasn't a psychologist or a doctor, nor did he have any medical training beyond the basic first aid he had taught himself, therefore he could only speculate the effects brain damage had on a person. It was a romantic concept, but maybe, deep down in her heart of hearts, she knew this man even if she had no memories of him? It was the only explanation that could explain the instant connection he had seen between Beth and the man standing in front of the gates.

"Who are you?" Her voice broke his thoughts and Morgan watched the man's face fall.

Immediately feeling the need to shield her, Morgan stepped forward and stood near Beth, speaking on her behalf.

"She doesn't remember anything," he began, "Everything from before she'd been shot is…gone."

The man's deep, blue eyes glared at him and Morgan couldn't decide if he was angry or hurt. He assumed probably both.

"Nothin'?" He spat.

"I know her name 'cause it was carved on the cross markin' her grave," Morgan explained.

The stranger didn't respond and stared down at his feet.

"She's remembers everything after she woke up, but…nothin' before," Morgan felt compelled to add.

Morgan could see the muscles in the man's jaw tighten, but he remained quiet.

"Did…did we know each other?" Beth hesitantly asked after several moments of silence.

"Yeah…" the reply was barely audible, "Yeah, we did."

Morgan had envisioned this moment so many times, finally finding someone who  _knew_ Beth. Someone who could fill in the gaping hole in her memory, but the vision had always been under much happier circumstances. He had pictured Beth breaking into a huge smile and they would have a celebration of sorts. However, the melancholy way in which she'd gotten answered dampened the mood and Beth only nodded mutely. There were no smiles and it was the polar opposite of a 'happy moment.'

"Dwight," the man yelled while stepping back and picking up his crossbow.

"Yeah," the scarred man who had greeted them reappeared.

"Go tell Rick we got some visitors," he said before turning to face them once more.

The scarred man, Dwight, gave a firm nod and trotted inside the walls of Alexandria.

"You never told me your name," Beth reiterated.

"Daryl," he said while sliding his crossbow over his shoulder, "Daryl Dixon."

Morgan noticed the furrowing of her brows, a habit she performed when she was committing something to memory.

"This is Morgan," she gestured, "He's the one who found me. I owe him my life," she smiled at him fondly and Morgan couldn't help but smile back.

When he turned his attention back in front of them, he was met with that same penetrating gaze.

"Morgan Jones," he extended his hand toward Daryl.

After a moment Daryl took his hand and gave it a firm shake. Morgan could tell the man still had suspicions, but he didn't blame him. There were all sorts of people in the world now. It was always better to be more cautious of strangers than to welcome them with open arms and naivety.

"And I guess you know who I am," Beth shifted from one foot to another.

"Yes…I do," Daryl's gaze softened when he turned his attention to her.

Daryl continued to stare at Beth, who kept shifting in obvious discomfort at being focused on so intently, until Dwight returned to the gates.

"Hey man," he said to Daryl, "Rick should be in the meeting room. He said to bring 'em up whenever you're ready."

Daryl nodded and spoke to the two of them once more, "You don't need yer' weapons here."

Morgan sheathed his machete, but noticed that Beth hesitated. After a brief moment, she began unstrapping the band around her arm and tucked her weapon away. Once her weapon was deposited, Daryl motioned for them to follow him inside.

They entered the gates and it was like entering an entirely different world. There were remnants of streets that had turned into dirt paths leading every which direction, flowers growing in window seals, toys in semi-groomed front yards, and horses could be heard 'neighing' in the distance. There were orchards and rows of crops growing from the ground, while the livestock were kept safely in pens. The blades of a large windmill could be seen rotating over the roofs and the smell of baking bread filled the air as they passed by the fully intact houses lining the road. It was more primitive than  _before_ things had gone to hell, but it was the closest thing to civilization there had been in years.

"This is what it used to be like," Morgan said to Beth who was absorbing everything in sight.

"This is…" she began.

"Paradise," Morgan finished her sentence with a wry smile.

"I've never seen anything like this before," she caught herself, "Well…I don't remember anything like this anyway."

Morgan saw the discreet look Daryl threw over his shoulder at her remark, but neither man made a comment.

"So how does it work here? How do you keep this place going?" Morgan asked instead.

For a moment it seem like Daryl wasn't going to answer, but then he stopped and rounded on them.

"We've all got jobs to do," he said directly to Beth who returned his stare steadily. There was a moment of silence and then Daryl's gaze moved to Morgan, "Everyone gets assigned a job dependin' on what skills you got. We got agriculture, security, supply runners, herders, and everythin' else in between."

"How d'you know who to trust?" Beth's tone neutral, but Morgan caught the look in her eyes.

It wasn't so much a challenge as it was that she felt skeptical. They had been through a lot on the road. They had seen a lot and done much more than any young girl should ever have to endure. It hadn't taken Beth long to lose the naivety that she'd had after she'd first awoken, quickly discovering that while the dead were to be fought; it was the  _living_ they should fear the most.

"Rick will explain tha' process t'you ," he looked from Beth to Morgan, "If what you say s'true."

Morgan caught the subtle stab that Daryl was making it clear he was on the fence in regards to Morgan actually knew Rick or not. Morgan had never seen the man with Rick the few times they had encountered each other after the initial epidemic began so he didn't blame Daryl for not taking him at his word.

The continued walking through the community and Morgan smiled as he watched Beth's eyes dart from one place to another. This  _had_  to be a good thing. If Rick was leader, then it  _had_ to be a sanctuary, because if it wasn't…Morgan felt his smile falter. If this wasn't  _good_ then he wasn't sure there was any hope left for the world.

Entering the building behind Daryl, Morgan glanced over his shoulder to make sure Beth was still tagging along. Her eyes were hard and he knew exactly what she was doing, it was something he had taught her; finding as many ways to escape the room as possible in case things went bad.

"Alright. I expect the reports brought t'me tomorrow," Rick's voice sounded within the room.

A woman quickly exited, flashing a smile, and then Morgan turned his attention to the man he'd been trailing the past three years.

" _Morgan_?" Rick's voice sounded shrill with disbelief.

"Rick," Morgan stepped forward and extended his hand toward the clean shaven man, "It's been a long time."

He couldn't describe the elation he felt seeing the friend he'd believed to be dead, standing before him with that same serious expression. It was surreal and familiar all at once. There were feelings and emotions flowing through him that he hadn't felt since Duane's death. He even felt himself blinking a few times to keep the welling emotions from spilling down his cheeks.

"I'll be damned," Rick's voice shook and he ignored Morgan's hand, reaching around to embrace him, "You're either tha' toughest or the luckiest son of 'ah bitch I know."

As soon as Rick was able to see over his shoulder, Morgan felt every muscle in his body tense, and he knew that they had indeed found the group that had buried Beth.

…

Daryl watched the brief reunion from the corner of the room. This… _Morgan_ had been telling the truth, from the warm welcome Rick had given him. Once he had the confirmation he needed, his eyes zeroed in on Beth. She was standing closer to the door, obviously uncomfortable being confined in the room, but she seemed to relax a bit when Rick acknowledged Morgan.

It was only a few moments later when Rick noticed her and the older man's eyes cut to Daryl's with the same expression he had probably held on his face at the gates; sheer disbelief.

"Beth?" Rick's voice was barely above a whisper.

Morgan then stepped aside to let their leader approach the girl who looked identical to their fallen family member.

"This is…what…" Rick looked between Beth, Morgan, and Daryl, " _How_?"

"I found her," Morgan spoke up, "nursed her back t'health."

Rick seemed to have the same problem as Daryl had earlier in regards to their equilibrium as he leaned back on the desk to brace himself.

"How is this possible? She'd been shot…at point blank range. She was  _dead_ … _wasn't she_?" Rick was pleading with him and Daryl had to look away.

He was still in a place of denial. Daryl had been so certain he would never see Beth again. That she was dead and gone forever. To see her standing in the same room as them, breathing the same air, and just… _existing_ made this all seem like some sort of new twist to his ghoulish dreams.

Rick pushed off of his desk and stepped forward to envelope her in a hug. His words rushing from his lips and Daryl could barely make out, "Maggie is never going to believe this."

Within seconds Morgan was squeezing his shoulder in an attempt to get his attention. Rick released his grasp and sent a questioning glance between Morgan and Beth.

"…Maggie?" Beth spoke for the first time since entering the room; clearly uncomfortable from the hug by the way she kept her arms locked by her side.

"Your sister…Maggie," Rick spoke slowly.

The room was eerily tense.

"She don't 'member us," Daryl tried to keep his voice steady as he stood from where he'd been leaning; taking in Beth's guarded expression.

"What do you mean she doesn't remember us?" Rick quirked an eyebrow.

Morgan and Beth exchanged a look. When the older man nodded, Beth turned her attention back to Rick.

Daryl felt an ache in his chest. Several years ago it had been him that she looked to with unwavering trust…and he had let her down. He had opened the front door to the mortuary without a second thought, and brought all of this upon them. What he wouldn't give to be able to go back and just  _not open that door._  If he hadn't used that dog as a way to escape the tense atmosphere growing between them at the table, then she would've never been taken. If he hadn't run from her, she would never have been at that hospital where she'd been shot. If he'd been more of a man and answered her properly, she would still remember him.

"I don't remember much from when I first woke up. The only memories I  _do_  have involve  _him_ ," she spoke evenly while gesturing to Morgan.

The ex-sheriff deputy turned leader's expression held that far off look that Daryl recognized as an attempt to mask the true turmoil raging inside. Stepping forward from where he'd been leaning, he moved to stand next Rick. It was obvious that he felt just as dazed as Daryl had and he could only imagine how overwhelmed Beth must have felt from all of this new information.

He glanced at her, standing close to the door, looking like she was ready to flee at a moment's notice. Her shoulders were rigid, her lips were barely visible from the way she was biting them shut, and her eyes stayed focused on either himself or Rick. Morgan had remained rooted in place, splitting the distance between Rick and her, however he too seemed to notice that Beth's edge returned the moment Rick had hugged her.

"How'd…" Rick seemed to have gathered his thoughts as he cleared his throat, "How'd you two find us?"

"I found a map, 'fore I found Beth, inside a church," Morgan pulled his backpack around and dug through the items inside, "It had a route marked to Washington. We were headed there when we ran into Alex and Anna."

"They were headed t'Hilltop," Daryl announced to Rick.

Rick nodded and turned back to Morgan, "They alright?"

"Yeah, thanks in no small part to Beth," Morgan sighed amusedly, "Crazy girl."

Daryl picked up on the not-so-subtle attempt to reengage Beth in the conversation, but it was apparent with how tightly her lips were pressed together that she wanted no part.

"They ran into a smaller herd. Your boy, Alex, got his ax lodged in the ground," Morgan went on to explain, "They were in the bed of 'ah pick-up truck, weaponless, when we found 'em."

"Thank you," Rick gave a stern look and nodded, "Thank you for goin' out of your way t'help them."

"Beth didn't give me a choice," Morgan chuckled, "She jumped in and had a few of 'em sliced down before I even had tha' chance to come up with 'ah game plan."

"Guess some things are still tha' same," Daryl gave a wistful smirk.

"I was jus' doin' what needed to be done s'all," Beth replied smoothly.

The phrase resonated with Daryl. It was a motto that he'd come to live by even  _before_ the apocalypse. There were some things in life that just  _needed to be done_ because either no one else had the courage to follow through or it was only something that his skill set allowed.

"So…" Morgan's voice cut the tension in the room, "How does this place work?"

Rick stood and Daryl recognized the change in his posture.  _This_ Rick was the leader of Alexandria, in charge of a little over a hundred lives, and ready to do whatever needed to be done to keep his people safe.

"Usually we interview our newcomers, which includes three specific questions as well as inquiries pertaining to their background, to get a feel for 'em. We have a few that are good judges of character and they help conduct the interviews. All of those new to our community are given a trial run and their weapons are confiscated for a few weeks, until we know we can trust them. I make the final decision on whether someone is suited for our… _lifestyle_ or not. Those who don't cut it are banished from the community and sent back out on their own. Those who are allowed to stay are afforded jobs in accordance to their skills," Rick summarized the gist of how Alexandria functioned, "We have laws and a jail for those who break them, there's 'ah church run by Father Gabriel with weekly services, a bakery, crops and livestock, water system, people in charge of keeping tha' herds away from the walls, and we even have trade routes set up between the other safe zones. It was rough gettin' it started, but we've got 'ah pretty smooth operation goin' now."

"This is the best news I've heard in years," Morgan's smile reached all the way to his eyes.

"So you're interested in becoming a part of our community then?" Rick asked with a soft chuckle.

Daryl watched Morgan's face fall and doesn't understand the sudden melancholy until he hears Morgan's question.

"What d'you wanna' do Beth?" The older man turned his gaze from Rick to the girl behind him.

Beth's eyes went from Rick, to him, and finally land on Morgan. Daryl could feel her gauging her companion and then her eyes suddenly snap back to Rick.

"So you're sayin' we'll be without our weapons for a few weeks?" She inquired incredulously.

"We have protocols," Rick responded, "and I'm obligated to abide by them. However, the situation with you guys is different than the rest. I invited Morgan to join our group long before we reached Alexandria and you…" Rick's gaze landed on Beth.

"I vouch for 'er," Daryl interrupted.

Beth's eyes locked with his and he could see the uncertainty filtering across her face.

"Well there ya' have it," Rick smirked and continued, "You've both  _always_  been a part of our group. Due t'extenuating circumstances, it took you two a lil' longer t'get here than the rest of us, so I think keepin' your weapons for the next twenty-four hours will be plenty enough. You're not  _strangers_ …you're  _family_."

Daryl felt Beth's scrutiny as she analyzed them. It was a very uncomfortable feeling, having her look at him and not knowing him. Had he been the same person he was before the prison, he was sure he would have already flipped out on her, but he had grown into his own and refused to give her any reason to distrust him.

"Beth?" Morgan spoke softly.

Daryl knew the moment she gave in and he couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips.

"What're the three questions?" Beth asked while she reached to the back of her pack and unclasping her machete.

Daryl stepped forward, taking the weapon, and also the initiative to begin the interview, "How many walkers you killed?"

"Dunno' about before," she answered derisively, "and I honestly can't say I've kept count since I came to. We killed a couple dozen just a few hours ago."

"How many people you killed?" Daryl asked even though he didn't want to know the answer.

"Three," she replied unblinking.

" _Why_?" Daryl hissed the final question.

"One was to defend him," Beth nodded to Morgan, "and two were defending myself."

Rick began asking Morgan the same questions behind them, but Daryl was too focused on Beth to comprehend what the answers were. He had just learned that the Beth he knew, who had been innocent of the living's blood on her hands, was no more. The thought made him ill. If she had been with him, her hands would still be clean, but he had buried her and left her in a shallow grave with nothing but her name carved into two twigs he'd tied together.

"Why did you vouch for me?" She probed while staring up at him.

It was such a surreal feeling, staring at her electric blue eyes and remembering everything they had been through, but knowing the eyes staring back at him had no recollection of anything…of him.

"Regardless of what you remember and what you don't, the Beth Greene who'd been with us was good. She was better than tha' rest of us," Daryl admitted softly.

"Greene?" She tested the name on her tongue, "So my last name is Greene."

She hadn't even known her last name. She  _truly_ didn't remember  _anything_. She didn't remember how much her father had loved her, cared for her, doted on her. She didn't remember caring for an infant child, raising her as if she were her own, and singing to her as she paced the concrete floors of the upper level in their prison-home. She didn't remember her bossy sister or her overprotective brother. She didn't remember eating mud snakes and drinking moonshine. She didn't remember the hug that ended their argument and the fire that warmed their backs as they wiped their slates clean. She didn't remember their unfinished conversation. She didn't remember anyone…she didn't remember  _him_. Daryl felt as if he'd been physically punched. His anger burned through his veins and he knew a trip outside of the walls would be necessary after their meeting was over in order to alleviate some of his bitterness.

Beth just continued to stare at him with a crinkle in her brows.

"I've killed four men," Morgan's voice flitted through the air.

Beth moved, snapping Daryl back to the present when she bent down and pulled at the heel of her boot, producing a three inch, single sided razor blade.

"The Beth you knew then, and who I am now…I don't know if they're even remotely the same," she informed while pulling the knife from the sheath on her hip.

Daryl wasn't sure how to respond to her statement, so he didn't. Instead he allowed his eyes to trace the scars on her face and the new ones that were scattered on her arms and hands. Everywhere that had been soft had a much sharper edge, but her eyes still held the same kindness he had grown to cherish.

"Alright," Rick's voice broke Daryl's thoughts, "We'll get you guys to Sherry tomorrow and we'll get you your weapons back and set you up with a job. For now, you'll bunk in the mess hall until we can get you a place sorted out."

Daryl took the weapons he was holding and deposited them in a metal bin that lined the walls behind Sherry's desk, leaving Rick to escort Morgan and Beth to their temporary quarters.

Beth and turned and walked out of the room without giving him a second glance. Everything about her was so familiar, but she claimed to be a different person than the girl he remembered. Daryl wasn't sure whether he was heartbroken by the fact that  _his_ Beth was really gone forever, or blessed to get a second chance with a girl who had come to mean so much to him. It was very confusing.

"Daryl?" A woman's voice cut through the room, "You okay?"

Daryl turned to see Sherry, returning to her office from gathering the reports Rick had asked for earlier.

"Yeah. Fine," he lied.

"Those the weapons of our guests?" She inquired while looking at the forearm machete he was handling with great care.

"They're not guests. They're family," Daryl corrected her; shoving the bin back into its slot.

"Oh," Sherry nodded, "I'll be sure to remember that."

"Thanks," Daryl said curtly, turning to leave the room.

"Hey!" Sherry called out, causing Daryl to pop his head back in the room, "Don't forget you're supposed to have dinner with Dwight and me tonight. You skipped out last week. No excuses."

Daryl sighed, knowing that getting on Dwight's wife's bad side wasn't a wise decision, "I'll be there."

Daryl had no intention of going. He would come up with some lame excuse and spend the rest of the day outside of the walls, killing as much wildlife as he could. He had so many things he wanted to ask Beth, but no idea where to begin. He wasn't good with 'making friends' and he wasn't sure Beth cared to try to get to know him again. That thought disturbed him more than anything else.

"We're inviting Beth and Morgan," Sherry called from the other room.

Daryl paused, sighing in resignation because he knew he would in fact be cutting his hunting expedition short, "I said I'd be there."

Daryl marched out of the office and shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight. The streets were now bustling with people going about their daily routines and Daryl took a calming breath. If they had managed to rebuild society, give these people a second chance at  _life_ , he could figure out a way to start over with Beth. Even if she wasn't the same, even if she had new scars and was rougher around the edges, she was still Beth. She was worth it and he would do whatever it took to make things right between them, or as right as was possible in their circumstances.

_This was his second chance at life with Beth._

...

 **A/N:** I had A LOT of trouble with this chapter. It's very hard to write Beth because at this point...I want her very indifferent to everyone except Morgan. She has no relationship with anyone else, but everyone else feels like their seeing a ghost. So the reunion with Rick had me stuck for DAYS! Literally...days! I didn't want his reaction as strong as Daryl's, but I wanted there to be this disbelief that Beth was standing in his office. Even though we didn't see a lot of it on screen, but I'd like to think Rick and Beth had a bond through her caring for Judith. So I hope this is up to your standards...some reassurance would be nice. I really stressed over this chapter. You can thank Nicole for me posting tonight, because I honestly could have tinkered with it another week...


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:**  A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

 **THANK YOU** Nicole for editing this so I could post it today!

Yay! Early chapter! This is my  **gift**  to you guys!I hope everyone has had a  **Merry Christmas**  (or whatever other holiday you celebrate!) and your day has been filled with joy, love, and lots of good food! I love you all and thank you for always being so amazing!

 **A/N:** Big shout out to **Sarakaroline8**! She has a story called "Many Hearts to Tread" based on Sherry and Dwight surviving the apocalypse and Negan. I've read some of Dwight in the comics, but there's just not a whole lot of info about them. Thus I'm heavily basing MY Dwight and Sherry off of the characters in her story! Dwight and Sherry's backstory, last name, and personality are all thanks to  **Sarakaronline8**! Thanks for letting me borrow them love!

…

Morgan had been watching Beth since their meeting. She hadn't spoken much, only giving one word answers when he'd asked her something, but he knew she needed to talk about what had happened. They had found people who  _knew_ her, from  _before_ , and her reaction had been nothing like he had expected.

"Beth," Morgan breathed.

"Hmm," she hummed in response from where she lay on her bunk above him.

"You wanna' talk?" He inquired gently.

"'Bout what?" Her voice ringing with nonchalance.

"'Bout what?" he grumbled under his breath, "About what happened earlier," he spoke clear enough for her to hear.

"What's there t'talk about?" Her voice quiet.

Morgan stood from where he sat below her on his mattress and turned to lean his arms against the frame that held her bed above his. She was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling, with her arms folded neatly behind her head. She looked so lost, so unlike the confident Beth he had come to know, and it unnerved him.

"Listen hun. I've felt  _more_  than my fair share of heartache and I have t'live with the choices I've made," he watched as Beth turned her head to him, eyes shining brightly. Knowing he had her full attention, he continued, "In life…especially this one, we don't get second chances. We get split second decisions and most of 'em can get ya' killed. We have t'live with the consequences of those decisions and we're left dwellin' on tha' what ifs when things go bad. Some people may say they don't have any regrets, but the rest of us…those of us who've fought and struggled t'survive…we feel our guilt every time we open our eyes."

She sat up on her bed and scooted around to face him; blinking her eyes and furrowing her brows in concentration as she listened.

"You may not remember nothin' from  _before_ , but tell me," he smiled at her, "Do you regret anything? Anything at all from tha' past three years we been together?"

Beth sat stone-still and he could envision every scene playing through her head, every life she'd had to take, and every time death had very nearly taken her.

"No," she said firmly, "I have no regrets."

"Then don't start makin' them now," Morgan smiled wider, "Talk to 'em. Find out about yourself. They're the only ones who can answer all the questions we both know you have."

Beth took a deep breath, "What if…what if I'm nothin' like who I used to be? What if forgetting everything was a  _good_  thing?"

Morgan stepped back and cross his arms over his chest, "Ain't no way that man with the bow…what's his name…," he paused, before nodding once, "Daryl. Rick too. Ain't no way they'd be  _that_  happy to see someone if they weren't 'ah good person. "

"That's easy for you to say. You didn't know me  _before_ ," Beth scoffed.

"True," Morgan nodded his head several times, "but I know you now."

Beth breathed out through her nose and smirked.

Reaching a hand out, Morgan helped her climb down from the top bunk, "You at least think about it?"

"Yeah," she replied, "I'll think about it."

"Good deal," he patted her head, "Why don't we do some lookin' around before dinner? We got invited to Ms. Sherry's house tonight. They want to give us a proper welcome. Said you have a few more people t'meet."

Morgan moved to walk past her when he felt a tug. Looking back, Beth was holding the hem of his army green jacket within her fist. Her head was bowed and her knuckles were white from how tightly she was holding onto the material he was wearing.

"Thanks Morgan," her voice tight, "For everything."

Morgan reached out and replaced his hand on top of her soft, blond hair and gently replied, "Always."

…

Daryl sat in his handmade deer stand, high above the ground, staring into the distance. The limbs of his crossbow were touching the plywood floor as he rested his chin against the rubber recoil pad on the end of the stock. He'd been sitting there for several hours if the sun was any indication of the passage of time.

The day had been…preposterous. He wasn't sure whether to break down or break something. The latter seemed like it would feel more fulfilling. He'd finally gotten Beth back, but in some cruel twist of fate, she wasn't Beth...not  _really_. She looked like Beth, sounded like Beth, and felt like Beth, but this girl had none of the same memories as  _his_ Beth. In the short time he'd been around her, the differences he could identify in her had him reeling, but a small part of him hoped that with enough time he could find the Beth he knew within her.

He smirked at his thoughts. Finding himself hoping for things was a definite change due to Beth's influence. He'd been so close to accepting himself, to starting over, before she'd been taken from him. The idea of letting someone in, past his walls, had terrified him, but Beth had managed to do just that. She'd showed him there was more to life than just surviving. She'd given him hope, helped him keep faith that the others were alive, and towards the end he'd realized he didn't view Beth the same as anyone else in his life. Just as he was beginning to explore the idea of the possibilities between them…she was gone. Then the hospital incident happened…and she was  _really_ gone. Forever. Or so he had thought.

It had been tough on him, but it had been harsher on Maggie. He'd carried a sort of hatred for Maggie since that day. He understood not wanting to get their hopes up that she was still alive, but Daryl had  _never_ , not even for one moment, thought Beth was dead. Maggie had seemed to have forgotten Beth had ever existed, until she got word that the younger Greene was alive. He'd never forgive her for running off to go on some 'mission' to Washington and leaving all of them behind. If they had all been there, at the hospital, would they have made a difference? Would Beth still be alive? The different scenarios had tormented him the first year, after that horrific day, and Maggie had lost all hope in life until she'd found out she was pregnant. She and Glenn had moved from Alexandria soon after.

He was glad when Maggie and Glenn left for the Hilltop Colony. After taking control from Gregory during the Saviors attack, the two of became the leaders of the community. Their son, who they'd named Hershel after his grandfather, was born the same year. It had been harder to be around Maggie after Beth's death. On top of his grudge, Maggie reminded him of  _her_ in so many ways. Then there were the times where he'd had to struggle to see Beth within her sister. It had become an obsession of sorts; constantly looking for signs of Beth within Maggie's persona, but not wanting to feel the pain afterwards when he actually found them. Thus, when Maggie left, his life became easier. He finally began to let go…finally began to  _try_  and move on. Daryl knew he would  _never_  recover from losing Beth, but he also knew that she wouldn't want him wasting away, abstaining from making a life for himself, now that they were safe behind the walls of Alexandria.

However, today…all of that had changed.

Sighing, knowing he should begin heading back, Daryl climbed down from his place of solitude. By now word would have spread that Beth was alive, riders would have been sent to Hilltop, and everyone in their group, save Maggie and Glenn who would need time to get their affairs in order before making the trip, would be at the Orlich's house tonight for dinner. Sherry was by far the best cook, always looking for a reason to make a big meal, and their house was the best suited for entertaining.

As his feet touched the ground, he scanned the woods one last time. It was rare that he came across walkers nowadays, with the herders doing their job of keeping the abominations away from Alexandria, but the threat remained and Daryl knew better than to drop his guard. The one time he had done so had ended up being the biggest mistake of his life. However, the woods were as quiet as they always were. There were no signs of the dead and the sounds of wildlife told him the area was clear of any danger.

Slinging his crossbow over his shoulder, Daryl left his safe haven, and began the trek back to the walls that were his home.

…

Morgan stayed close to Beth as they followed the directions to Dwight and Sherry's house. While they'd been escorted to the mess hall, he had taken a moment to speak with Rick about Beth's…predicament, and asked that everyone who knew her be made aware of her situation. He knew people would still be in awe to see Beth alive, but he didn't want her to have to explain herself time and time again throughout the night. As hard as it had been for Beth to lose all the memories about herself, he could tell that losing memories of the people she had supposedly cared for was affecting her  _much_  worse.

The sun had set when they reached the worn picket fence with  _Orlich_ carved into the wood over the gate. Morgan stopped and turned to Beth, gauging her expression and trying to think of the best way to help lower anxiety.

"Rick said he'd explain to everyone what happened. They'll know so you don't have to worry about explanin' yourself or hurtin' anyone's feelings," he reminded her.

Beth took a deep breath and nodded, "'Kay."

"You're strong. You're gonna' be  _just_ fine," Morgan patted her head.

Beth huffed, "Let's just get this over with."

Leading the way, Morgan knocked on the door and was greeted by the man they had seen earlier that day.

"Hey! The guests of honor are finally here," Dwight yelled to the crowd of people behind him.

Their initial arrival had been a blur. Beth had been swallowed in so many tearful hugs and relieved smiles that he'd worried she would've been completely overwhelmed. Much to his relief, she had returned each embrace and met every smile with one of her own. Some people's reactions had been stronger than others, but Morgan knew everyone was equal parts ecstatic and amazed that Beth was in fact alive.

He, himself, had been introduced to so many people it was hard to keep everyone's names straight. Rick had greeted him at the door and reintroduced him to Daryl, Rick's second-in-command, and Dwight, who acted under Daryl and was in charge of security. There was also Sherry, the woman who had been in the office upon their initial arrival, who also happened to be Dwight's wife. Sherry helped Rick with resource reports that kept Alexandria running and was also in charge of transitioning people into their community from the outside world. However, there were several others whom he had never met.

The first person Rick introduced was Carol, an older woman in charge of teaching children both education and weapon's training. Next was a Father Gabriel, the pastor of the community, followed by a younger black woman named Sasha, a first class sniper who worked with Dwight. There was an equally young Hispanic female named Rosita, in charge of the group who herded walkers, and her boyfriend Eugene, a heavier, Caucasian man with an interesting haircut, who had a team that created ammunition. Lastly was a girl close to Beth's age named Tara, who was the head of construction in Alexandria. Rick then informed him that Carl had taken a blacksmith apprenticeship at Hilltop and that Michonne had gone to The Kingdom after the war with the Saviors.

Morgan had been able to gather bits and pieces about this group that called themselves 'Saviors' as the night progressed. Apparently they had been led by a man named Negan, who had taken the life of Sasha's brother. After a long and grisly battle, with the help of Dwight playing a double agent, Rick had beaten and incarcerated the vile man. Dwight took over leadership, but after a few harsh winters and tense negotiations, the Saviors had eventually become a part of Alexandria.

Through it all, Beth had remained glued to his side, listening to and studying everyone they came in contact with. Morgan, ever the observant one, had also noticed how a pair of bright, blue eyes had followed them around the house since the moment they'd entered the door.

It was just before dinner when a blond woman entered the house, a child on her hip, and crossed the room to greet Rick with a kiss. The child looked no older than four or five. Her eyes were as blue as the sky, accentuated by the navy, cotton dress she was wearing, and she had a head full of long, curly brown hair. It was in that moment that the most shocking reunion of the night took place. As soon as the young girl's eyes landed on Beth, she leapt to the ground and ran to Morgan's young comrade. Not having much choice, Beth picked up the young child sobbing into her legs.

" _Morgan_ ," Beth's face was panicked.

The child was clinging onto her so tightly that Beth didn't even need to support young girl's weight. Rick quickly approached the two girls, but seemed just as uncertain of what to do as Beth.

"She yours?" Morgan asked confusedly.

"Yeah," Rick affirmed before turning his attention back to the child and gently touching her back, "Judith? Honey?"

The child ignored her father's attention and continued sobbing into Beth's neck.

"She know Beth?" Morgan asked, standing by Beth, but unsure of how to help.

"I didn't think she'd remember her," Rick replied honestly; wiping a hand down his face and placing the other on his hip, "Beth raised her. Judy was nearly two when the prison fell. She hasn't seen Beth since then."

There was a change in Beth's expression. Her eyes went from wild and uncertain to focused and determined. Removing one arm from supporting the child's weight, Beth began patting the young girl's back and shushing her softly.

The entire house was silent as Beth's eyes fluttered around the room apprehensively.

Finding her niche, Beth slowly rocked Judith from side to side, alternating between rubbing her back and brushing the tips of her hair as everyone watched. He could see the tension around Beth melting away and if Morgan was being honest, the scene before him was the most 'at peace' he had ever witnessed from his blond companion. When the child's sobbing turned into quiet hiccups, conversations resumed and Beth took the child to the living room.

"I never dreamed Judith would act like that," Rick sighed sadly.

"Kids remember more than we give 'em credit for," Morgan replied wisely.

"When Lori died…" Rick cleared his throat, "Beth took care of Judith. Carol helped, but it was always Beth that Judith wanted."

Morgan wasn't sure how to reply, so he remained silent, watching Beth standing in front of the fireplace from where he stood in the dining room.

"Is she okay?" The blond woman from earlier moved to stand beside Rick.

"She's gonna' be just fine," Rick said with a reminiscent smile, "Ah. Morgan, this is Barbara."

"Pleasure- t'meet you ma'am," Morgan extended his hand.

"Rick's told me so much about you two," Barbara took his hand with both of hers, "I'm so glad the two of you have finally made it to all of us safely."

Morgan looked around the room, feeling a sense of 'home' that he hadn't had in such a long time. These were  _good_  people. These were the people who were going to ensure mankind survived. He and Beth would be safe here. They wouldn't have to struggle every day to make sure they lived to see the next; there would be no more dirt mattresses, no more running from place to place with no destination, and no more living in constant fear. Here they could just  _live_.

When his eyes drifted back to Beth, she was animatedly talking to the young child still in her arms. The smile on her face was genuine and she looked completely at ease. Morgan wasn't the only one who had noticed the scene in the living room; catching Daryl discreetly staring at the two girls as they laughed quietly.

"Dinner's ready!" Sherry announced, breaking Morgan's concentration.

Dishes began pouring from the kitchen; filling the room with the most heavenly smells he'd experienced in years. As people began crowding around the table, Morgan caught sight of Rick retrieving Judith from Beth. He smiled as he watched his friend struggle to take his daughter from Beth, but without even needing to hear them, he knew Beth had made promises to whisk the young child away again after dinner.

With Rick returning to the table, he expected Beth to follow behind, but instead he saw her bolting for the front door. He immediately took a step to chase after her when he noticed Daryl pushing off the wall and maneuvering to the entryway.

Morgan knew Beth wouldn't leave Alexandria without him. He assumed she just needed some fresh air after being around so many people. She couldn't remember a world where crowds of people interacted with one another. All she knew was that when a crowd of corpses were shambling together, it meant they had to run for their lives. Having so many sights and sounds in a confined space had to be overwhelming her. While Beth needed to interact with someone who'd known her, Daryl seemingly the only person she'd had such a strong connection with thus far, Morgan still worried she'd run from all of this.

Taking a deep breath and hoping he was making the right choice, Morgan took his seat and tried to push his concerns to the back of his mind.

…

Daryl rushed through Dwight's front door, expecting Beth to be in sight, only to be greeted by an empty street.

Without electricity to run street lights, most people returned to the safety of their homes when the sun set. The only people out this late at night were those on guard duty along the walls, monitoring the terrain outside of Alexandria.

Standing in the front yard, knowing Beth couldn't have gotten far in the minute or two it took him to get out of the house, he looked for any sign of where she could have went. His eyes, adjusting to the darkness, scanned the ground as he bent down to examine the dirt. There were fresh prints toward the house, but none towards the gate, which meant Beth was still on the premises. Standing, he turned to face the house when a voice caught his attention.

"There 'ah reason you followed me out here?" Beth asked from where she sat on top of the roof awning that covered the porch.

"How tha' hell'd you get up there?" Daryl blurted out without thinking.

"Climbed the lattice," Beth gestured to the vines growing up the side of the house.

Daryl considered attempting to climb the wooden trellis, but didn't think it would hold his weight. Sherry also happened to be very fond of her greenery and he didn't want to risk damaging her plants.

"I jus' needed some fresh air," Beth said softly, "I was expectin' Morgan to come out here and check on me. Thought I might get away with hiding up here for a bit."

Sighing, resigning himself to the earful he would get later if Sherry ever found out about him climbing onto her roof, Daryl moved to the lattice tacked to the house beside the porch. The wood creaked as he applied his weight to the frame and clambered onto the awning as soon as it was within reach. Carefully placing his feet on the wooden slates covering the roof, he made his way over to where Beth sat. She didn't move as he lowered himself to sit beside her and he situated himself to get comfortable, waiting for her to initiate a conversation.

They sat in silence. Looking up at the sky, Daryl began counting the stars in order to keep himself from speaking first. He wasn't sure she was looking to talk and was content to just be in her presence after three years without it.

"I don't remember anything," Beth's voice filtered through the air.

"I know," Daryl replied solemnly.

"I always thought getting shot an' losin' my memory was because I had done somethin' really bad. Because I was a bad person," she admitted while staring up at the sky, "I mean, I got shot…in the  _head_."

Daryl internally flinched as he envisioned the scene that had haunted his dreams.

Beth, oblivious to his sudden stillness, continued, "We've come across people…out there. They were ruthless…desperate…or narcissistic."

"People will do anything t'try and survive," Daryl's voice took a disgusted edge.

"There jus' aren't any good people left," Beth breathed.

"There are. There are still good people," Daryl immediately countered, "Rick and everyone else here. Morgan. They're all good people."

Beth hummed a reply.

"You're good too," he added while turning back to look at the stars.

The tension in the air felt thick as Daryl tried to remain passive. He could feel Beth's eyes on him, but he wasn't sure how he would react if he met her gaze, and forced himself to stare out over the community.

"What…" Beth paused, causing Daryl to lose his internal battle and turn to her, "What was I like?  _Before_?"

Daryl rubbed the back of his neck in thought, "I ain't tha' best with words, but you were good, tough, just like yer' old man."

Beth pursed her lips as she listened and Daryl took a deep breath in an attempt to settle his nerves.

"Rick depended on you. You were a good mom figure t'asskicker…uh, Judith," he clarified when she gave him a puzzled look, "You helped look after Carl too, Rick's son, after his mom died. Maggie…she never gave you enough credit."

"Maggie's my sister, right?" Beth inquired in a tone of indifference.

"Yeah. She's older'n you by a few years. She married a guy named Glenn. They met when we found your farm after the outbreak. They got 'ah son; Hershel. He's named after your old man," Daryl informed her.

"So how'd we know each other?" Beth's eyes bore into his.

"I was with Rick's group when we came across your place. The farm eventually got overrun by 'ah herd. We found a prison and made it into our home. We were safe for a time. There was a town, fortified kinda' like here, but their leader…he attacked us and we had to run. Me an' you, we got out together. We were together for a'while," Daryl briefly summarized their journey together, leaving out details he wasn't sure she was ready to hear or that he was ready to share.

"The way you acted when you saw me," Beth stared down at her feet dangling over the edge of the awning, "What were we?"

Daryl chewed on his bottom lip.

He didn't know how to answer her question. While they had never taken steps beyond friendship, their conversation at the dinner table of the mortuary had thrown open doors to opportunities he had never imagined. There was no doubt in his mind he had felt  _something_ for Beth, but he couldn't say to what extent. Relationships weren't an area in which he excelled. Glancing up, still unsure how to answer, the opening of the front door stopped him mid-sentence.

"We were-"

" _Daryl Dixon_ ," a female voice called from below, "How in the world did you two get on top of my roof?"

 _Shit_.

"You did  _not_  climb up my lattice…did you," Sherry wasn't asking, "You  _did_! You must'a lost your damn mind! Beth doesn't know any better, but you… _you_ know how long it took me to get those vines growin'."

Daryl, irritated with being interrupted, snapped a reply, "I didn't mess up yer' fuckin' plants."

Sherry narrowed her eyes, but refrained from making any further comments on their situation. Instead she sighed and stated, "Dinners gonna' get cold if you two don't come and eat."

With that, she stormed back into the house, leaving Daryl with an extremely amused Beth.

"You could've told me her plants were sacred," Beth smirked at him.

"You wouldn't 'ah come down anyway," Daryl grumbled.

Beth's smirk faltered and Daryl felt a sense of dread envelope him, unsure if he'd said something wrong.

"We must've been close for you to know me so well," she murmured as her eyes danced between his.

Lost in her eyes, Daryl felt a sudden ache in his chest.  _This_ was his Beth. She may have had a slightly reformed temperament, but deep down, she was still the same. He could see it in her eyes. He could hear it in her voice. She wanted to know about her past, about  _him_ , but she was scared. He could only imagine what it felt like hearing stories of yourself and not feeling any connection to them.

Looking away from her, Daryl glared down at the ground below them, trying to reign in his emotions. When he trusted his voice enough to talk, he met her gaze once more.

"Yeah…we were," his voice rough as he spoke.

Beth nodded and placed her hands on either side of her legs to grip the roof.

"We should head back inside," she commented absently.

Daryl grunted a reply.

His heart leaped to his throat when Beth pushed off from where she sat to land nimbly on the dirt path beneath them. In reality it wasn't that far of a drop, eight to nine feet at the max, but he hadn't been expecting the sudden action.

"You comin'?" She asked as she stared up at him.

Knowing the alternative was better than chancing a climb back down the wooden trellis covered in vines; Daryl slid off the roof and landed, albeit not quite as gracefully as Beth.

"I guess I should thank you," Beth said as they moved to the porch, "for comin' out here and answerin' my questions."

Daryl shrugged one of his shoulders, "You deserve t'know."

"Yeah, I guess I do," she replied breezily.

Daryl shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unsure of how to proceed. If it had been him and Beth before, he would have just spoken his mind.

The thought made him furrow his brows. Things may not be  _exactly_  the same, but it was still Beth, and there was no reason for him to act any different. Straightening his back and squaring his shoulders, Daryl tightened his jaw as a new sense of clarity calmed him. He refused to tiptoe around her. She deserved better than that. She deserved his honestly now more than ever.

Keeping his voice even, Daryl spoke quietly, "You may not 'member anything from before, but that don't matter. You're here…you're  _alive_  and you're here. You get to start over."

A small smile tugged at Beth's lips, "'Ah second chance, huh?"

"Back when it was jus' me and you, you showed me that we could start over," Daryl elaborated, "So I'll be here…if you need me."

"I've already started over," Beth sighed, "I didn't have a choice."

Daryl clenched his teeth imaging how confused Beth must have been when she'd finally become coherent.

"Morgan saved my life and I'll never be able to repay him for that," Beth's tone changed, "As long as I've got him, I'll be fine."

Without waiting for a reply, Beth turned and re-entered the house, leaving Daryl standing on the porch.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there when Dwight came out to check on him, but he'd had enough time to go through the entire interaction with Beth at least a hundred times.

"Hey," Dwight greeted him as he opened the door, "You okay?"

"Fine," Daryl bit out.

"You gonna' come inside and grab 'ah plate?" Dwight furrowed the brow still visible on his face.

Daryl's jaw hurt from how tightly he'd be grinding it, "I ain't hungry. I'm gonna' head out."

"Oh, alright. I'll let Rick know," Dwight replied cautiously.

"Thanks," Daryl grumbled as he began descending the stairs of the porch.

"You sure you're alright?" Dwight called after him.

Daryl didn't bother replying.

The entire walk home, he couldn't shake the bitter feeling of how his conversation with Beth had ended. He couldn't decide whether he was angry with her for dismissing him when he'd put himself out there, with Morgan for being the one who had ultimately replaced him, or with himself for having unrealistic expectations that Beth would suddenly remember everything that had happened between them.

Opening the door to his dark, quiet home, Daryl trudged through the house to his bedroom and plopped onto his bed. When he'd gone to bed the night before, he had expected today to be as monotonous as any other. He was willing to admit that he'd become somewhat bored with the routine of daily life in Alexandria, but he appreciated the fact that he could actually  _be_  bored.

After today, he didn't think life would ever be the same, and he was beyond thankful for the reasons behind it. He'd learned tonight, after his conversation with Beth, that she  _did_  want to know about her past. She had even asked about their relationship. That was enough for him to believe there was a chance for them to get back to how things had been  _before_ and he was willing to do whatever it took to get there. He'd had to fight for anything he'd ever wanted in life and this would be no different.

_Daryl knew that nothing worth having ever came easy._

...

 **A/N:** Barbara is a background character in the comics.

Yay! Judith x Beth reunion! This is probably my favorite chapter thus far!

Writing a progressive Daryl, one effected by Beth and not as 'brooding' as we're used to, is actually A LOT harder to write than 'internally hating everyone' Daryl. Lol. So I hope you guys enjoyed this!

_***Writing Schedule*** _

I'm going to go back to my normal 2 week upload (and if I get a chapter finished early, it will posted the following Sunday). I'm also going to split my uploads. I'm feeling my Bethyl groove again so one Sunday will be a post for H.O.P.E. and the next Sunday will be for Sometimes When Things Go Wrong... Once season 5 is over, I will start For the Ones you Protect. I want to see how the rest of the season goes so I can incorporate Beth (much like I did with the season 4 finale in For the Ones You Love.) SO PLEASE DON'T WORRY! Even though I'm starting my own book, I WILL CONTINUE WRITING FANFICTION! My book isn't going to be something I finish is a few days. This is going to be a long process and fanfics has always been a fun escape for me!

**Happy holidays everyone and I send you my love and best wishes!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:**  A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

 **Thank you** Nicole for being amazing as always and editing this for me!

…

It had been nearly a week since she and Morgan had arrived at Alexandria. Beth wasn't used to being around so many people at once and when she began feeling too overwhelmed, she would venture, or rather sneak, outside the walls into the warm embrace of the woods. Morgan had worried the first few times she'd disappeared, but she always returned unharmed and that seemed to be enough for him not to reprimand her too harshly. It both annoyed and touched her that he worried for her when he knew she was perfectly capable of looking after herself, but she supposed that's what people who cared were supposed to do. Morgan may not have been her blood, but he was the closest thing to family that she would ever know.

Her 'sister' was supposed to be arriving sometime during the afternoon, but Beth wasn't particularly excited by the prospect. She had told Daryl several nights ago, outside of that house, that as long as she had Morgan, she didn't need anyone else. Morgan was the  _only_ person she trusted. These people who  _knew_ her seemed to be telling the truth, but things were different. She wasn't the same 'Beth.' There was no way she could be. The Beth  _before_ had a father named Hershel, an older sister named Maggie, and had met the group on the Greene farm; the Beth  _now_  had crawled out of a shallow grave and been 'raised' by Morgan to survive the undead and to view  _everyone_ , no matter their size or appearance, as a threat.

Movement below caught her attention and pure reflex had her hand reaching for the gun on her hip before she registered whether there was any actual danger. Several yards in front of her stood a deer, much healthier than the first one she had seen over a year ago with Morgan, blithely nibbling on the bits of grass protruding through the colored piles of leaves. She released her clutch on her pistol and leaned forward in the handmade chair she sat upon, high above the dirt floor. She'd come across the tree stand she currently inhabited during one of the first times she'd snuck out and decided to make it her haven, knowing that being  _off_  the ground was safer than trying to find a place to relax  _on_  the ground. It seemed fairly new, as the integrity of the wood did not look compromised due to the elements or age, and assumed it had probably been built by someone from Alexandria.

Inhaling deeply, Beth let herself relish in her surroundings. The moment was surreal to her. The rising sun cast halos through the swaying tree limbs, the air was cool enough that she could see her breath in small puffs with each exhale, and below her a young buck grazed without fear. She tried to imagine what life must have been like  _before_ , where people didn't live in constant distress, have to lie, steal, or fight for their next meal, and where she had possibly led a happy life with a family who loved her. She could remember nothing before waking to the harsh world in which everyone now lived and that made no difference to her. She wasn't particularly happy or sad, keeping more of a callous mentality to having any emotions at all. She did what had to be done in order to survive and learned it was easier to feel  _nothing_  than try to find any sort of sentiment in such a dark, cruel world. However, for the first time in the three years since her…' _rebirth_ ,' she found beauty in this moment. Beth could only assume that this was what peace might have felt like.

Slowly, she folded her arms over her knees, and watched the animal beneath her. She was so enthralled in the scene that she jumped when the deer jerked its head up from the ground. It looked off into the foliage behind it, ears quirky every which way, hearing and seeing something Beth could not. Reaching once more for her gun, she froze when the deer looked up at her, as if noticing her for the first time. She couldn't help but stare and felt her heart sink when it ran under her tree and away from whatever had first grasped its attention.

Slumping against the sharp bark of the tree behind her, the brace of her machete digging awkwardly into her back, Beth sighed heavily. It saddened her how easily peace could be broken. She supposed people thought the same with how quickly the world had changed, suddenly going from common to unfamiliar, and in a way she was glad she had lost her memories; a person can't miss what they don't remember.

Closing her eyes and taking another languid breath, knowing she'd spent longer out of the walls than usual and Morgan would worry if she didn't return soon, she heard what sounded like a deep voice in the distance. Opening her eyes and wrinkling her brows, Beth sat straight, and listened more intently. The woods had gone quiet… _too_  quiet. She could feel the prickling sensation of dread rising up the back of her neck and she knew what was coming before she saw them.

" _Walkers_ ," she whispered when the deep voice turned into a gargled groan as the shuffling of feet through leaves could be heard.

Turning and stepping down the wooden boards hammered into the tree two at a time, she landed on the ground as quietly as possible. Throwing herself behind the tree, she waited. If it were only a few walkers, she could handle them, but any more than a dozen or so then she would have to run. She knew not everyone in Alexandria was equipped to handle a herd, but they had protocols for these situations, herders they had called them. They led the walkers away from the walls, but left them to roam elsewhere. In her opinion, it wasn't safe to leave even  _one_ walker 'alive.' The more walkers they 'cleared,' as Morgan phrased it, the more lives they saved.

Glancing around the tree, she saw two walkers coming from the bushes and sighed in relief. Two would be a no trouble at all. Unclipping her forearm machete from the makeshift bandolier strapped across her chest, Beth quickly slipped the weapon into place and tightened its hold on her arm. Moving from behind the tree, she calmly walked over to the first walker and thrust her blade upward through the corpse's nasal cavity. Yanking her blade free, she threw her arm in a circular motion and removed the top half of the second walkers head from the rest of its decomposing body.

Flicking her arm a few times, removing as much blood and brain matter from her machete as possible, she reached for the straps of her weapon. The shuffling of more feet through the leaves further behind her caused her to pause and she spun around to see several more walkers exiting the tree line. Taking a cautious step back, Beth moved as stealthily as possible, as the grumbling continued to crescendo. Not only were the walkers coming from behind her, but more and more were becoming visible from the direction of the two she had just killed.

Her path back to Alexandria was slowly being cut off by walking corpses and Beth quickly weighed her options. She could climb back up to safety of the tree stand, but there were hundreds of unsuspecting people in Alexandria and Morgan was among them. If he realized, which she was sure he already had, that she wasn't within the walls, there was no doubt in her mind that he would risk his life to come and find her. While the Safe zone was a fortress and she was sure the walls themselves would keep the infected out, the question was for how long? Walkers never tire and over time, with enough pressure, even metal and steel would begin to fold. Morgan had learned that the walls had fallen once already from a herd, which was why Rick had doubled the efforts of the herders and scouts along the roads to Alexandria.

With her mind made up, Beth began making a mad dash for the gates of the Safe Zone. She was maybe a mile or two from the walls and though the walkers weren't especially fast, Beth had to maneuver quickly while avoiding the dead as well as trees and shrubs. The jagged edges of the branches caught her flesh, knowing blood was probably seeping from wounds she couldn't feel, and barbs tore into her clothes. When an especially thick thorn bush snagged her apparel, she was forced to discard her jacket. In the time it took her to untangle herself from her extra layer, several walkers were in her route, forcing her farther off the semi-beaten path.

She could feel herself on the verge of panicking; knowing that if she didn't calm herself down she would overexert herself even more and her body could possibly being failing her faster if her symptoms arose. Glancing back, she felt nauseous at the number of walkers shambling through the woods. There had to be at least a hundred, if not more, and they were all moving in the direction of Alexandria. She wasn't sure whose job it was to patrol the southern roads to the Safe Zone, but whoever had been given the job had epically failed.

The only choice she had now was to run…to  _keep_ running. She'd never been in this sort of situation without Morgan, and knowing the older man, he would be scolding her for putting everyone else above herself and not climbing back up into the tree stand. She just couldn't do that though. The guilt of sitting in safety while other people were in danger, knowing she could have done something to help, would be more than Beth could bear. Thus, she  _had_  to make it because otherwise her efforts to warn everyone would be in vain and her death would be meaningless.

Skidding to a halt, she stabbed a walker through the back with her machete before it had a chance to round on her. Using the body as camouflage, she pressed through the herd, making herself as small as possible behind the carcass. She felt her left leg beginning to prickle, the first sign that her brain was losing the connection that allowed her to control her bodily movements. She tried to focus on her breathing, but between the stench of death invading her senses and having nowhere safe to hide, all she could do was keep pushing forward. The rush of adrenaline was helping to keep her feet moving, but she could feel herself slowly reaching the limit of what her body could handle.

A grip on her shirt gained her attention. Glancing back she wasn't sure whether the abomination realized she was one of them or not, but she wasn't willing to take a chance. Ripping the blade out of the walkers she was steering, she twisted and sliced the hand grabbing at her clothes in one swift movement, leaving the limb dangling awkwardly from the rest of its arm. Blood splattered across her face, dripping down her skin to absorb in the material of her shirt, but she forced herself to remain focused and quickly ended the corpse before it could sink its teeth into her. She then spun back to the walker she had used for camouflage and stabbed upwards, through the soft spot in the back of the neck just like Morgan had showed her, and jumped over the twice dead body as it crumbled to the ground. She could see the clearing through the undergrowth, pumping her legs as fast as they would take her, knowing there was still a decent amount of distance from the trees to the gates. Glancing behind her, she discerned that she wasn't going to make it in time to give them any warning. The dead were on her heels and she would be lucky if they even opened the gate for her. She needed to get their attention  _now_ , as she exited the woods, and suddenly an idea came to her.

She knew if she came running out of the thicket, no one would suspect too much until the walkers became visible. Even if she screamed, it was only likely to cause confusion and thus she decided to use what she was  _certain_ would get people moving; gunfire. The sound of gunshots automatically equaled either walkers or people attacking. Either way, it would get the guard tower barking orders for more people to get along the fences.

Pulling her pistol from its holster, she dashed towards the edge of the tree line, circling around so that her back was towards the clearing, and began retreating out of the woods. When the foliage beside her vanished and she knew she was visible to the people on patrol, she switched off her safety and began firing her gun. Emptying her first clip, taking around twelve walkers and hitting three more in nonlethal areas, Beth pulled the magazine free of the gun and shoved it into her back pocket. Grabbing the spare clip, never having been more grateful than in this moment for Morgan's incessant nagging to  _always_ keep a second round of bullets, she awkwardly reloaded, mindful of the blade still attached to her arm.

Firing at the walkers closest to her, Beth could hear the exclamations from the walls. There were voices shouting at her to run for the gate, but she knew she wouldn't be able to create enough distance to get inside without leading the walkers right to the entrance. She was too tired and it was beyond her how her left leg was still moving as she had completely lost feeling in it before she'd even exited the woods.

 _"If Morgan could see me, he would know_ ," she thought to herself as she struggled to breathe.

She staggered, her knees trying to buckle beneath her weight, and there was an audible 'click' when she pulled the trigger. With no bullets left to fire, she holstered her weapon and tried to keep herself steady. Swinging wildly, she hacked off part of a walkers face, but failed to strike the brain. Lunging again, she imbedded her blade in the side of the creatures head and pulled back, as if unsheathing a sword, and the walker slide off the tip of her weapon. She then had to thrust her blade into the ground to keep from tipping forward and her chest heaved as she fought to keep air filling her lungs.

Another walker was coming from the side and she knew she needed to pull her machete free from the dirt, but she couldn't. Fumbling for the knife on her belt with her free hand, she gripped it with weak fingers, and compelled herself to stand upright. Just as the walker was upon her, a shot was fired from the gates, blowing the rotted head away from its body.

Sighing, knowing someone with decent aim and a rifle was helping her, Beth mustered enough strength to pull her machete from the ground. Turning back to the trees, a new burst of adrenaline flooded her system, giving her the speed to throw her arm in front of her face as a walker fell upon her. Its teeth gnashed against her blade and blood trickled onto her face as the decayed flesh sliced further back with each attempt it made to bite her against the sharp edge.

A strangled, frustrated cry rushed from her throat and she turned her head to try and find where her other knife had landed. The weight of the walker on her body was suffocating and the smell of death and mold made her want to vomit. Heated tears spilled from her eyes. She was so  _angry_ …angry at the injury that had impaired her, angry at her body for not being able to do what she was asking, angry at herself for always getting herself in these situations, and angry at the world for being the way it was.

Her arm trembled and the cool metal of the brace began pressing into her cheek. Her eyes focused when fingers grazed the hilt of her knife and she tightened her jaw in determination. If she was going to die here, she was going to die  _fighting_. She stretched her hand further, feeling the walker's skin brushing against hers as it worked different angles to reach her, and caught a glint of metal as the blade bounced in grass each time she touched it. She almost had the knife in her hand when a shadow moved over her and the corpse suddenly stilled; the tip of a blade protruding from its forehead. It was only then that she could hear the chaos of screams and gunfire around her. Looking up, she expected dark eyes and darker skin, but her breath hitched when crystal blue and tan skin filled her vision.

"Beth," his voice boomed in her ears as he shoved the walker off of her, "Can ya' move?"

Beth nodded, having to focus too hard on breathing to speak, and attempted to sit up.

She managed, with Daryl's help, to get to her feet, but the moment he released her, she crumbled into his chest.

"Can't," she managed to say as she sucked in a deep breath.

Daryl nodded, picking her up and cradling her in his arms, and she let her head rest against his shoulder.

"I got ya'," his voice sounded so far away as he spoke, "Dwight, we gotta' go."

She could feel herself being jostled about as he ran, but it was all she could do keep her eyes open. She looked up, seeing the sun was now much higher in the air, and wondered how long she'd actually been fighting off the dead. The entire incident had felt like it had happened in a matter of seconds, but the exhaustion that seeped into her bones made her aware that it had been  _much_  longer than that.

Closing her eyes, her head lolling as they moved, she could hear Daryl's voice yelling her name. She could feel the tension in his muscles, she recognized the concern in his tone, but she was just so very,  _very_  tired. Daryl's hold was nothing like Morgan's had been the few times he'd had to carry her. While physical contact was something that Beth wasn't generally comfortable with, there was a strange familiarity to being held by Daryl. His smell, a mixture of oil and leather, tugged at her senses. His warmth made her feel safe for the first time since she could remember and she wondered if he'd ever held her like this  _before._ Against her will, the sounds around her faded and the world turned black.

Beth Greene wasn't sure if she'd ever open her eyes again.

…

The first thing that Beth became aware of was the brilliant, bright light that blinded her. The second was the smell of oil and leather that enveloped her. The third was that she was actually blinking her eyes as they adjusted to her surroundings and the soft bed she was lying upon. Looking around, she was in a room she didn't recognize, and the blinding light had been from the sunlight streaming in through the window. There was an empty chair beside her bed and a glass of water on the nightstand, but there were no other indicators that suggested the room was lived in. Sitting up, she tried to follow Morgan's advice and take things slowly, knowing her body wasn't in the best condition despite how she felt.

Reaching for the glass of water, she drank it greedily; she returned it to the bedside table void of its previous contents. Her right arm was blackened with bruises and she hadn't been changed out of the clothes covered in walker blood, but for the most part she didn't appear any worse for wear. Not that she would be able to feel any difference anyway.

She could hear voices behind the closed door and watched the knob begin to turn, revealing the same blue eyes and tan skin that had come for her in the clearing. He shut the door behind him and moved into the chair beside her bed wordlessly. She watched his every move, analyzing him much like she had when they sat on the awning of Sherry's porch.

"Hey," he said softly.

Beth didn't respond.

He cleared his throat, "How…are you feelin'?"

Beth stayed silent.

His eyes jumped from her, to the bed, to his hands, and back to her, but he couldn't seem to hold her gaze. She wasn't sure what she was searching for, but Daryl had been an anomaly since she'd first met him at the gates. He had revealed that they had been close, as she had assumed from his initial reaction, but she felt like there was something he wasn't telling her. Taking a deep breath, relieved the action didn't call for extra effort, she spoke.

"I've been worse," her voice came out hoarse.

Daryl's eyes shot up to hers and it was his turn to lapse into silence.

She scanned the room once more before looking back to Daryl, "Where am I?"

"My place. Didn't think tha' mess hall would do much for someone recovering," he answered her.

"Where's Morgan?" She inquired apprehensively.

"Down tha' road," he gestured over his shoulder to nowhere in particular, "He's been helping set up y'alls place. I told 'em I'd keep an eye on ya'."

"How long have I been out?" She asked after a few heartbeats, moving her gaze from Daryl to the window behind him.

"'Bout 'ah day," he replied quietly.

" _Damn_ ," she breathed and heard him chuckle, "What?"

"Nothin'," he shook his head, but the look she gave him must have conveyed that he needed to explain and he added, "I ain't used to hearin' you cuss."

"Was that not…somethin' I did?" She asked carefully.

"Not especially," his eyes seemed to soften as he spoke, "You had 'ah thing or two t'say to me, but for tha' most part you kept it clean."

"Mark cussin' under 'Things That Have Changed,'" she huffed; her tone dripping in sarcasm.

"'S not so bad," Daryl smirked, causing her lips to curve upwards.

"It's strange. When I woke up, there were all these… _things_  I knew how t'do, but didn't know  _how_  I knew I could do them. My body seemed to remember even when I couldn't. Some things were lost, but Morgan said I recalled how t'do all the important stuff," she murmured and smiled a little, "The cussin' is definitely picked up from Morgan though."

Daryl's rough laugh widened her smile.

A lull fell between them and Beth tore her eyes away from him to stare at her bruised arm; a clear outline of where her forearm machete had been strapped to her skin drawn in black and blue.

"I was fine with what was gonna' happen ya' know," Beth spoke evenly.

"With what?" Daryl's voice sounded gruffer than it had a moment ago.

"It's different for you…for  _everyone_. You have all these memories, hopes and dreams, but all I have is  _this_ ," she disclosed looking up at him, "I woke up to 'ah world filled with death…suffering…regret and chaos. I don't know anything else. For so long it was jus' me an' Morgan. I owe him more than I will ever be able t'repay, but he's 'ah good man. He doesn't hold it over my head or take advantage of tha' fact I am  _literally_  alive because of him."

Daryl's eyes were fixed on her, but his jaw tightening was his only response.

"The only thing he's ever asked of me was t'do what I felt was  _right_ ," Beth finished somberly.

"What are ya' tryin' to say?" Daryl asked sharply.

"I'm sayin' that I could've climbed back up in my tree stand and let that herd drag their undead feet right up t'Alexandria without doing anything, but I knew that wasn't  _right_ ," she explained, "So I chose to try an' warn the people at the gates, knowin' I probably wouldn't get out of there alive. I have…limits and I've never been by myself like that. Even still, I was willin' t'do whatever I could because it was the right thing t'do."

She wasn't sure what response she was expecting from Daryl, but she had expected him to at least say  _something_. However, he just sat there, looking at her with eyes that felt like they were piercing her soul, and she forced herself to keep his gaze.

"I got there in time," he finally responded.

Beth hummed a reply.

"No one saw you pass through the gates," he gave her a flat, if not somewhat amused look if she was reading him correctly, "How'd you get out?"

"If you don't know then that must mean I've got tha' whole sneakin' out thing down pretty good," Beth smirked.

"Can you at least tell me if walkers are able t'get in the same way?" He huffed.

"No. They can't," she answered honestly.

"What were you even doin' out there?" Daryl asked after a few moments.

Beth looked up at the ceiling, replaying the tranquil moments before the walkers appeared and murmured, "Jus' wanted to escape for 'ah bit."

She heard Daryl shifting in his chair, but whatever he wanted to say remained sealed behind his lips.

Closing her eyes she added, "Then the walkers showed up and I had t'return to reality."

"It's not safe out there," Daryl's voice sounded especially rough as he spoke in a quiet tone.

"It's not safe anywhere," Beth smirked, rolling her head to the side to look at him, "and I told you I found me 'ah tree stand. I've got more sense than t'lounge around on tha' ground."

Daryl's smirk held something more that she couldn't quite identify.

Sitting in an unfamiliar room, with nearly a complete stranger, should have made Beth uncomfortable, but for reasons beyond her, she felt a twinge of what had enveloped her while sitting in the tree stand. The realization made her draw her brows together and tighten her jaw. She barely knew this man, and in all honesty he didn't  _know_  her either despite what he might have thought, and yet he had run out from the confines of safety to come to her aide. Not many people stuck their necks out for strangers anymore and she wanted to know what his reasoning had been for such an act.

"Why?" She questioned evenly.

"Why what?" He asked.

"Why'd you save me?" She elaborated her inquiry.

"What tha' hell kind'a question is that?" He requested, erupting from his chair.

"You risked your life and the lives of the people that followed you to save  _one_ person…to save  _me_ … from a herd of walkers. People don't  _do_ that. They see a herd and they run  _away_  from the walkers. They leave their loved ones behind to save themselves," she rambled her explanation out quickly.

"It was the right thing t'do," he repeated her explanation back to her.

He moved away from her to stand by the window, leaning his forearm on the wall and gazing through the dusty windowpane. Beth watched him, illuminated in the sunlight, and tried to read his expression. His brows were furrowed, his shoulders were rigid, and he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. When he removed himself from the window to lean against the wall, she blinked and brought her gaze back to stare at her hands fisted loosely in her lap.

Pulling her legs out from under the covers to dangle them over the side of the bed, she sighed, "Thank you."

"'S no big deal'," Daryl shrugged a shoulder.

"No," she refuted, "You saved my life. I owe ya' one."

"You don't owe me nothin'," Daryl retorted, "If anything I'm-"

Beth watched, waiting for him to finish his sentence, but his lips were firmly pressed together and he made no move to continue speaking.

"Morgan said the same thing," she smiled, "'Bout not owin' him. I respect him for it, even though I still think I have to repay 'em somehow."

Daryl nodded, glancing at her through the fringe of his hair.

Placing her feet on the ground, she slowly stood and tested the strength in her legs. The numbness was gone and from the looks of the bruises and cuts battering her body, she was glad she couldn't feel the pain that should have resided.

"What happened?" His voice drifted through the room.

"Hmm?" She tilted her head up at him, "When you had t'carry me?"

Daryl grunted in acknowledgment.

"Not really sure t'be honest," Beth confessed while taking steady steps towards the window, "I think it has t'do with bein' shot. Unless I had some sort 'ah illness?"

She looked up at him expectantly and he shook his head 'no.'

"Then it's from bein' shot. If I push myself too hard, if I do too much over a period of time, I start to lose tha' feelin' in my legs. After a while I'm completely numb and eventually it's too difficult t'move around. Sometimes it gets really hard t'breath. Morgan thought I might've had somethin' wrong  _before_ , but bein' shot was the most obvious explanation. Neither one of us knew for sure though, 'til now at least," Beth explained as she looked out the window.

She glanced up at Daryl when she heard his teeth grinding together.

"I don't want you to feel sorry for me," Beth kept her voice even, "What happened to me, happened for a reason. I deal with it. I don't want anyone's pity."

"You didn't  _do_  anything t'deserve this," Daryl spat.

He knew what had happened to her, all she had to do was ask, but she was too afraid to learn the truth. She'd managed to survive the last three years without knowing who she'd been and she didn't see any benefits in learning about what her past self had been like. While she was curious, her imagination had conjured so many different situations that she preferred her oblivion to what the truth might reveal.

"It doesn't always happen," Beth felt the need to ease some of the tension in the air, "Sometimes I can clear several dozen walkers an' be completely fine. Other times, well…you saw."

"Does it hurt?" Daryl turned onto his shoulder, pressing against the side of the window seal, and stared through the window with her.

"I don't even remember what pain feels like," she said so quietly she wasn't sure he heard her.

"What does that-"

A knock on the door interrupted Daryl's question.

"Hey kiddo," Morgan peeked around the door.

"Hey," she replied, stepping away from the window and Daryl to approach the older man.

"How ya' feelin'?" Morgan asked breezily.

"You know I feel fine," she smiled, "My machete arm looks pretty bad though."

" _Jesus_ ," Morgan took her arm gently, "These are tha' worst you've had."

"Yeah," Beth nodded, "We need to figure out something to replace the inner lining of the brace. It doesn't hinder me, but I don't think this is good for my arm."

She could see Daryl, watching them with unabashed curiosity written all over his features, out of her peripheral. She had kept her guard up while talking with him, but her opinion of him had changed after today. He could have pushed her to tell him how she was getting out of their  _almost_ impenetrable fortress. He could have left her in the mess hall to recover. He could have let her die; however he did none of those things. He'd asked whether her escape route endangered the lives of the people living in the community, he'd opened his home to a stranger so that she could sleep in the most comfortable bed she had  _ever_  laid in, and he had run into a herd of flesh eating monster  _for her_. She was beginning to think that maybe, just  _maybe_ , she could be a little more trusting of Daryl. He put others safety above his own, he was taking care of her when she'd told him she didn't need him or anyone else, and he'd saved her when the only person she expected to do such a thing was Morgan. He was a lot more like her than she'd realized.

"Alright," Morgan's voice broke her thoughts, "I'll ask around."

"I can fix it," Daryl said from where he stood against the wall, "if ya' want."

Beth could feel Morgan's questioning eyes on her, but her gaze was locked on Daryl. If she said yes, she would be taking a step towards… _something_. She had never let anyone else in besides Morgan, but like her companion, Daryl had refused the idea that she owed him for his help. He had proven he was just as good of a man as Morgan so the least she could do was try to trust him.

"Okay," she gave a small smile, "I'd appreciate that."

Something changed in Daryl's expression. His eyes didn't seem quite as harsh and his body visibly relaxed. He dropped his head to look down at his feet before she could fully examine his features and she stared at the top of his head in idle curiosity. Turning back to Morgan, who had the biggest smile she'd ever seen plastered across his face, she felt her smile widen.

"You done good out there hun," he lifted a hand and ruffled her hair.

"I lost it," she grumbled, referring to when she had begun losing control of her body.

"I'm lucky Daryl was there t'get ya'," she watched Morgan glance over to her rescuer.

"Yeah, me too," she said quietly, before asking in a normal tone, "What happened to tha' herd?"

"Rick sent some people out on horses, drove 'em away, but you gave them some extra time. Had damn near every walker out there after you," his smile faltered, "I'm proud of you. You did tha' right thing, but next time…worry more about savin' yourself. I've made it through some impossible times, but I don't think my old heart could take losin' you too."

Beth sighed and nodded.

Morgan had told her about his wife, Jenny, and Duane. He didn't go into detail, but Beth knew enough to understand that she wasn't the only one that viewed their relationship as 'all they had left' in the world.

"I'll be more careful next time," Beth murmured.

Morgan smiled and removed his hand from her hair.

There was a heavy silence and Beth peeked out of the corner of her eye to see Daryl still leaning against the wall, looking as uncomfortable as she'd ever seen him.

"You ready to meet your sister?" Morgan's question caught her by surprise.

Beth snapped her eyes back to the older man and could feel the color draining from her face. The idea of meeting someone who had once, and still technically  _was,_ a part of her family made Beth feel uneasy. Her situation hadn't seemed to matter to the people she'd come across so far, however they'd only known her for a short time. This person had been with her since the day she was born. The pressure she felt to be who her sister wanted was overwhelming.

"Uh, yeah," she glanced at Daryl, "I'm jus' gonna' finish up here. Where d'you wanna' meet?"

"I got us all moved in to a house down the road," Morgan explained, "take a left down the road and it's the third house on the left. Maggie, Glenn, and their little one are there waitin'."

Beth forced herself to keep her voice even, "Left and third on the left. Got it. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Morgan furrowed his brows, looking her over, before nodding and leaving the room.

Beth took a deep breath and hung her head. She could hear Daryl move from where he leaned against the wall, his footsteps thundering in her ears, and felt his presence in front of her. Looking up from the hole she was trying to burn into the floor, she met his crystal blue eyes.

"Maggie felt 'ah lot of guilt after you were gone," Daryl's coarse voice rumbled through the room, "Glenn tried t'help, but she jus' felt like she had nothin' left. Then she found out she was pregnant and things changed 'ah bit."

"Were we close?" Beth found herself asking despite everything she felt.

"Yeah," Daryl breathed and continued, "When tha' prison fell and we got separated, you kept me goin'. You were the one who kept tellin' me everyone was still alive. Then when you got taken, I believed you were still alive. I owed you that much."

"So Maggie thought I was dead?" She assumed from where he seemed to be leading their conversation.

"I dunno' what Maggie thought t'be honest. Ain't really my place to talk for her," Daryl's jaw tightened, "but she's not gonna' be disappointed if that's what you're worried about."

"A little," Beth admitted, "I'm not really good at dealin' with people."

Daryl laughed, "Better'n me."

Beth found herself smiling.

"You bein' alive is enough," Daryl declared softly, "When I put that cross with your name on it in tha' ground…I thought it was the end."

"That's usually how it works," Beth acknowledged.

"Maggie's not gonna' be disappointed," Daryl repeated, "She's gonna' be happy that she's gettin' a second chance t'be your sister."

Beth felt her heart swell ever so slightly. She hadn't thought of it that way. She had been so consumed with how different she might be that she hadn't taken into account that the fact she was still alive would mean more than anything else to some people. She also couldn't help but think that Daryl's words about her sister might have applied to him as well.

"Thank you," Beth reached out with trembling, unsure fingers and took his hand, "I needed to hear that."

She wasn't sure what had possessed her to reach out for him, but it had just come naturally, as if she'd needed to express her gratitude through contact. His fingers wrapped around hers and the feel of his calloused skin was soothing. The intensity of his eyes was the same as the day she'd met him outside the gates and Beth had to remind herself to breath.

"I got somethin' I wanna' give you," he tugged her out of the bedroom, down the hall, and into the living room.

"What?" She asked when he released her hand.

She watched as he crossed the living room and opened a trunk sitting in front of the large, bay windows. He opened it, rifling through for a moment, before pulling out something and closing the lid. He approached her, holding out a long knife in a black, leather sheath.

"This was yours," he placed the knife in her hands.

"Mine?" She asked; confused.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"From  _before_?" She probed further.

He nodded and smirked, "I bought it at some shit pawn shop when my brother was sellin' some stuff he'd…found."

"Then it was yours?" The crease between her eyebrows deepened.

"Was. I let you keep it after you took 'ah likin' to it. You didn't give me much choice," his smirk turned into a lazy grin.

"Thanks," she said while keeping her eyes on the weapon in her hand.

"Figured you could use it since ya' lost your other one," Daryl tipped his head toward the smaller sheath hanging on her hip without a knife.

Undoing her belt and replacing her empty sheath with the knife Daryl had just given her, she felt more comfortable with the change of weight on her side. Retightening her belt, Beth pulled her shirt back over the hem of her pants and smoothed it out. She needed a fresh change of clothes, but everything she owned was in a house where people she didn't know we're expecting her.

"I'd better get goin'," she murmured, her eyes dancing between his.

"Yeah," he nodded.

They stared at each other a few more moments before he dropped his gaze and led her to the front door.

"I was wrong the other night," she said while standing in the doorway.

Daryl's questioning look told her she needed to explain.

"When I told you I didn't think there were any good people left in the world," she elaborated, "I was wrong."

Daryl shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He didn't look uncomfortable, rather he seemed unsure of how to reply, and thus he remained silent.

Turning to leave, she made it down the steps of his porch before he called to her.

"Hey Beth," his voice stopped her.

"Yeah?" She answered over her shoulder.

"Yesterday," he paused, "We haven't seen a herd that big in a while. People get lazy, too comfortable, and shit like that happens."

She blinked, waiting for him to continue.

"What you did…most people would've looked out for themselves," he rubbed the back of his neck as he fumbled through his statement, "You always worried about other people more'n yourself, even  _before_."

"Oh," she exhaled, feeling unsure of how to reply much like she thought Daryl must have at her statement a moment ago.

"If the walkers had reached the wall, even with the trenches we've dug and the barriers we've made, if they had reached the wall," he shoved his hands in his pocket and stepped out of the shade from the porch, "You saved us a lot 'ah trouble."

"You woulda' done the same," she replied with a shrug.

"Yeah," his voice even, "I woulda'."

She smiled, a genuine smile, and turned back towards the road.

Kicking a few rocks with her foot, she brushed her fingers against the soft, worn leather of the knife she'd once owned. Her eyes flickered over the handle, examining every knick and scratch, wondering where they all came from.

Reaching the third house on the left, Beth stood in front of the broken fence, and took a steadying breath. Maybe Daryl was right. Maybe her being alive would be enough and the people inside would just be happy that they had the opportunity to start afresh. Maybe she shouldn't worry so much about how  _different_  she might be and just live her life the way she wanted. She'd never put much thought into what her future held, knowing that the sun would set and rise again and their struggle to survive would continue. Here though, behind the steel walls of Alexandria, she might actually have a chance to experience the things she couldn't remember. She could reconnect with the people she'd lost in her memories and make a home for herself. The idea that the world didn't have to be the dark, cruel place she'd accepted made her feel lighter and a foreign sensation slowly began capturing her heart.

_For the first time…Beth had hope._

…

 **A/N:** So after long last I finally give you Beth's perspective! I wanted to wait until the story was more established because I wanted to mystery of what Beth felt to be left to the reader's interpretation and what we saw of her through Daryl and Morgan. I intended it this way so that Beth would be a stranger to us as well as Daryl. If we knew how she felt (in general) it would ruin some of the anticipation when we finally got to read how she feels about everything. So this was a Beth centric chapter and from here on it will be strictly from Daryl and Beth's perspectives. Very rarely will I have a Morgan POV unless the scene calls for an outside perspective looking in on Bethyl. Hope this chapter was to your satisfaction! Let me know what you think!

The knife scene was for  **Smudge**! I promised her a picnic, but wanted to surprise her with the knife scene! If you have any scenes from TWD (past seasons or not) that you would like me to try and incorporate, just PM me or leave it in a review and I'll do my best to fit it in the story if a scene allows!


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:**  A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

 **Thank you** Nicole for your wonderful edits!

 **Also** , jumping back and forth between H.O.P.E. and Sometimes When Things Go Wrong... has been really effecting my writing juices. Lol. Just as I get going in one story, I'm having to switch gears into a completely different universe. It's  _really_ hard. So as much as I didn't want to, one story is going to have to take precedence over the other. I also HAVE to get one of these stories finished if I'm ever going to be able to start For the Ones You Protect when season 5 is over. So I've decided that I will focus my 2 week posts on H.O.P.E. and update Sometimes When Things Go Wrong... as I finished a chapter. I WILL STILL BE WRITING it, but I won't have a set schedule like I do with H.O.P.E. Thank you guys for understanding and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

...

Standing in front of the entryway, Beth took a deep breath. The soft glow of candle light illuminated the windows and she could hear voices behind the thin, discolored walls. She reached for the doorknob, but hesitated when her fingers grazed the tarnished, brass veneer. Letting her hand fall to her side, she took a step back. Beth had come to terms with what awaited her inside, but actually standing in front of the door, she was uneasy all over again. It wasn't the same sickening dread she had felt before, thanks to Daryl, but more uncertainty of what these people expected of her.

She could deal with hoards of walkers. She could sleep on the ground with only the stars as her blanket. She knew how to dismantle and clean her pistol with her eyes closed. She had become quite proficient with her machete, the blade becoming an extension of her arm, but dealing with the living was out of her comfort zone. It was different with Morgan though. She didn't have a single memory that did not include the older man. When Morgan had asked her whether she wanted to stay or leave Alexandria, she desired nothing more than to march out of those gates and back into their world… _her_  world. However, Morgan was not a product of the apocalypse, not like she was. She felt more 'at home' sitting in the middle of the woods with a blade strapped around her arm and her senses honed in on her surroundings.  _Not_  sitting in a room with a bunch of strangers.

No one had asked her if she wanted to meet the people waiting for her inside. No one had bothered to question whether she wanted to reconnect with her past and learn about herself. Morgan had said she  _needed_ to learn about who she was, but she felt like he wanted to know more than she did. Truth be told, Beth didn't want to meet with anyone. She saw no advantage to learning about her 'past self' and ascertaining information about a person who no longer existed didn't interest her.

Reaching for the brass handle once more, she twisted the knob and slowly opened the wooden door. The hinges creaked in protest, alerting everyone in the house of her presence as she closed the door behind her. She looked down to see Morgan's shoes placed neatly beside the door. Following suit, she slid her feet out of her boots and placed them beside Morgan's. She then glanced around, taking a few steps into the room, before an unfamiliar woman stepped into view.

Beth froze.

Making an educated guess, she knew this person had to be her 'sister' Maggie, but Beth felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as a surge of panicked adrenaline flooded her system nonetheless. The woman just continued to stare, face drained of any color, mouth slightly agape, and eyes boring into her so raptly that Beth had to force herself to keep the stranger's gaze. Beth felt herself lifting up on her toes, the sense of fight or flight becoming too much to resist, when her name was spoken.

"Beth?" The visitor's voice was soft, yet just as foreign as everyone else she'd met.

"Yeah?" Beth breathed softly.

"I can't…" the woman took a few unsteady steps toward her before stopping to lean against the couch, "You don't remember me?"

Beth shook her head.

An unsteady hand covered her trembling lips and she swallowed air for several moments before she was able to continue, "I'm Maggie. I'm…" she moved her hand to her chest, as if to hold herself upright, "I'm your sister."

Beth wasn't sure how to respond. It was obvious that Maggie was distraught by the sight of her and anything she replied with would be hugely underwhelming in comparison to Maggie's raw sincerity.

"…Okay," she finally mumbled.

Maggie took several short, feeble breathes as sobs wracked her body. Pushing off the clothed furniture, Beth watched as her 'sister' cautiously made her way across the room. Suddenly feeling like she was being hunted, Beth clenched her teeth together and willed herself to remain impassive, but her sharp eyes took in every move her 'predator' made. When she was within arm's length, Maggie reached out to her and Beth immediately took a step back.

"I can't believe it's really you," Maggie chocked as tears fell from her eyes, "I thought I'd lost you."

Beth's eyes danced between the older woman's.

"I wanted to come see you so bad after the other day…" her voice trailed off, "but if you woke up while I was there, I didn't want t'overwhelm you."

Taking a deep breath, Beth planted her feet against the dusty, wooden floor as Maggie's shaky fingers grazed over the scar on her cheek. The sensation made Beth feel uneasy. She realized that Maggie had no malevolent intentions, but generally when her skin was being touched, it was by cold, dead fingers or warm hands committed to doing her harm.

Before she could react, Maggie wrapped her arms around her and held her so tightly that Beth struggled to inhale. She could hear the older woman crying into her hair and rather than push away like she so desperately wanted to, she kept her hands clenched by her sides. This person was her 'family,' but being hugged by a complete stranger wasn't something Beth was used to experiencing.

When Maggie's grip weakened and her sobs increased, Beth did the only thing she knew and reached up to awkwardly pat Maggie's back. It was the same gesture Morgan used on her when she was on the brink of tears and it had always been enough to keep her from crumbling. With Maggie's face still buried in her messy braid, Beth glanced around the room for any signs of Morgan.

There was some simple furniture, a few small toys scattered around the room, and a gate in front of the stairway, but the room was void of anything else. It was then that she noticed Maggie's tears had subsided and she began to pull away, keeping her hands braced against Beth's shoulders, and gently sliding them down her arms to entangle their fingers.

"Do you know what happened?" Maggie asked with a broken voice.

"No," Beth's fingers ached under Maggie's grasp.

"I can-"

"I don't want to know," Beth interrupted coolly.

"Alright," Maggie smiled tightly; keeping her lips pressed together, "Do you remember anything? Anythin' at all?"

"No," Beth subtly pulled her fingers from Maggie's hold.

"I'm sorry," Maggie's voice broke, "I am  _so_  sorry Beth."

Beth shrugged a shoulder, trying to downplay the situation, "Its fine. There's no reason for you t'be sorry about somethin' I don't even remember."

"I should've looked for you," Maggie pressed despite Beth's dismissal, "If I had believed Daryl. Maybe…" Maggie's hands flew to her face and her shoulders heaved violently.

"Hey," Beth timidly reached forward, "I umm…it's fine. Really.  _I'm_  fine."

A man peeked around the corner in time to see Maggie crumple to the floor. Not sure of what to do, Beth stepped back and let him approach the inconsolable woman. He eventually got her to her feet and escorted her to another room. Having a moment to herself, Beth collapsed on the couch and pulled Daryl's… _her_  blade from its sheath. Placing the point into her index finger, she twirled the handle slowly with her other hand, admiring the glint of the candle light as it reflected off the blade.

"She just needs 'ah minute," the man spoke up as he lingered in the hallway.

Beth nodded.

"I'm Glenn…by the way," he added with a quick wave.

"You already know who I am I suppose," Beth sighed.

"Well, kinda'," Glenn stepped into the room, "I mean, I know your name."

Beth stopped twirling the knife and looked over at him as he crossed in front of her to sit on the other end of the couch.

"I know who you are…or who you  _were_?" He fumbled with his words, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "It's weird."

Beth quirked a brow and waited for him to continue.

"You're still  _you_ , but you're not the  _you_  that I knew," Glenn elaborated, "That's the kind of crazy stuff you see in sci-fi movies."

"Sci-fi?" Beth asked.

"Science fiction," Glenn lifted his head to look at her, "Space travel..aliens…Iron Man?"

Beth creased her brows.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about do you?" Glenn huffed and dropped his head.

"Sorry," Beth murmured.

"No. It's fine," Glenn replied immediately, "It's not your fault."

"I wouldn't know," Beth blurted out and quickly bit the inside of her lips together.

There was an awkward silence and she went back to twirling the knife against her finger as a distraction.

"I thought I was going to lose Maggie after you…" Glenn cleared his throat, "She got really low."

Beth paused, looking at the reflection of her eyes in the steel she was holding.

"You guys had lost your farm and all your people, then your dad, and when the prison fell we were all scattered," Glenn began, "I never stopped looking for her. I  _knew_  she was out there, somewhere, alive and looking for me. I always thought the two of you would be together. She got off the bus to look for you."

Beth had no idea what 'bus' he was referring to, but she wasn't sure whether she wanted to stop him or let him continue. The more she learned, the more she was able to connect certain dots, and that terrified her.

"When we found each other and you weren't with either of us, I think she held out hope that you would be with the rest of the group," Glenn continued, staring down at his hands intently, "Then Daryl told us you were taken-"

"All of this happened to 'ah different person," Beth interjected, "There's no reason t'dig up old wounds."

"But don't you want to know what happened?" Glenn stared at her perplexedly.

"No," Beth said firmly, "Whatever happened…it's done. Whoever I may have been, that's not who I am now. Is it?"

Beth wasn't asking because she wanted to know. She was making a point. In what had made her anxious in the beginning, knowing she wasn't the same person her 'family' was expecting, now seemed pertinent that it be made aware that she  _wasn't_  Beth Greene. This wasn't just some bout of amnesia. She had  _barely_  survived what should have been a fatal wound. She was  _damaged_  and there was no way to 'fix' her. She wouldn't magically get her memories back and she didn't want them holding out false hope for such a miracle to occur.

"No," Glenn sighed, "I supposed you're not."

The shuffling of feet caught Beth's attention and she looked up to see Maggie had returned. She looked much more composed and was carrying a small, sleeping child in her arms. Quickly putting her knife away, Beth scooted over to allow Maggie enough room to sit in between them.

"This is your nephew," Maggie said while smiling at the slumbering child she cradled, "Hershel."

"We decided to name him after-"

"Our dad," Beth finished Glenn's sentence for him, earning expectant looks from the both of them, "Daryl told me."

Maggie seemed to deflate some, but her smile remained.

From the timeline she was aware of, being separated from everyone here, she surmised the child to be around three or four, with a tuft of black shaggy hair, and olive skin. He was holding a blanket in one hand and his other arm was draped lazily over Maggie's bicep. Beth hadn't been around children, save for her recent run in with Judith, and it surprised her how small people could actually be.

"We were talkin' with Morgan earlier," Maggie interrupted her thoughts.

"About what?" Beth found herself asking.

"We're in charge of another colony called Hilltop. It's about 'ah day's ride from here," Maggie informed her, "It's a lot like Alexandria. We have walls, houses, an' we live with the exact same structure as what Rick has implemented here."

"Sounds nice," Beth responded absently, unsure what any of that had to do with her.

"We want you t'come back with us," Maggie revealed hastily, "We're family. We should be together. I  _want_  us t'be together again."

"What…about Morgan?" Beth furrowed her brows.

Maggie glanced at Glenn.

"He's stayin' here…isn't he?" Beth deduced from their exchange, "He wants t'help Rick."

"I will never be able to thank Morgan enough for everythin' he did for you, but  _we're_ family Beth," Maggie implored, "I get a second chance at bein' your sister. You deserve for me t'be better to you than I was."

Beth quickly rose from her seat, "Morgan _is_  my  _family_. I'm not goin' anywhere without him."

"We're not forcin' you to do anything," Glenn interjected, "We talked to Morgan and he said he would agree to whatever you decided. We just wanted you to know that we want our family to be together again."

Beth clenched her jaw and breathed in through her nose.

 _Of course_  Morgan wasn't going to stand in the way of Beth reuniting with her 'real' family. He had encouraged her from day one to try and discover more about herself. He wanted what was best, or what he  _thought_  was best, for her. Even so, it didn't stop the sting of betrayal that crept its way from her heart and thrummed in her ears.

"You don't have t'say anything right now," Maggie said gently, "but will you at least think about it?"

Beth took a moment to calm herself, giving a curt nod.

"We love you Beth," Maggie's eyes began filling with new tears, "I just want t'do right by you."

Beth nodded, refusing to be wavered by her 'sisters' emotions, "I've been doin' fine on my own."

Maggie's expression faltered, but she managed to nod and Beth felt her stomach twist into a knot.

"I've had a long past few days. I'm gonna' get some sleep," she sighed, wanting desperately to escape the looks she was receiving from the two sitting on the couch.

"Well talk in the morning then," Maggie said with a watery smile, "Sweet dreams Bethy."

Beth's eyes darted between Maggie and Glenn before she flashed a grim smile and sought out her room.

She opened the doors to a hall closet and a dingy bathroom before she found a room with a small bed. Her bag sat in the middle of the mattress and her forearm machete lying next to it, still attached to her bandolier. Plopping down next to her things, dust flitted through the beams of light projecting from the candle on her bedside table.

It upset her that Morgan left her to fend for herself, knowing her disposition when it came to meeting new people, but she supposed she understood his intentions. She could only assume that he had wanted to make sure whatever decision she made was not influenced by his presence. Although she thought he had known her well enough to know that the decision had been made before the question had even been prompted. Morgan was her 'family.' Maggie and Glenn may have been blood relatives, but they were a long way from sharing anything close to the sort of sentiment she felt when it came to Morgan.

Alexandria suddenly felt like a prison and Beth had an overwhelming urge to breakout.

There would be no discussion in the morning. She already had an answer. She had no intention of going anywhere without Morgan and she had come to find a few people… _interesting_ within the walls of this community. With her mind made up, Beth rifled through her bag and pulled out a few rations she'd kept from half eaten meals in the mess hall. Pulling her bandolier over her head and adjusting it to its proper place over her chest, Beth quietly opened the window to her room and stepped out into the darkness.

As she stealthily ran for the back of the wall, she could taste the cool night air on her tongue. Quickly ascending the support beams to the top of the wall, she then climbed down the thick vines and foliage that had grown up the walls since the years they had been erected. The sneaking out had started as a onetime occurrence. She had wanted to get out of their fortress just to prove to herself that she  _could_ , without being caught. She had planned on walking back in through the gates, knowing she would attract people's attention and never be able to sneak out again. However, on her way back, she'd seen the vines and overgrowth. Deciding to test their strength, she'd yanked on the nature-made ropes and when they didn't budge, she began climbing up the wall. From them on, she had a way to get in and out of Alexandria and none was the wiser. At least until Morgan had figured out what she was doing.

Letting go of the vines, she landed on the rusted, dented roof of a truck that had been pressed against the wall for an added obstacle. Beth never felt freer than when her feet touched the muddy earth and she began to run. The first few sprinkles of rain pelted her skin as she sprinted for her tree stand, intent on sitting in her haven until long after the sun rose. She was suddenly very thankful she hadn't told Daryl about her hiding spot. For the time being, she just wanted to be left alone.

…

He was checking with Dwight on some maintenance that needed to be done on the west side of the wall when the first gunshots were fired. Everyone's attention immediately turned to the trees. It was a few moments later when he saw  _her_ , tousled blond hair and wild blue eyes, bursting out of the woods.

"What tha' hell is she doin' out there?" Dwight asked beside him.

The walker's emerged soon after and the entire wall fell into chaos. Daryl started barking orders, Dwight ran to get more people to defend the wall, and gunshots continued to blare in the background.

"She's got one on her!" Someone yelled.

Daryl had never felt more helpless, watching Beth fighting a hoard of walkers and being too far away to help.

"I got 'er," Sasha answered further down the wall, lifting her sniper rifle and taking out the undead just before it reached the younger blond.

Daryl heaved a sigh of relief. With Sasha at the wall, there was a chance he could fight his way down to Beth and get her to safety.

"How many?" Rick hollered from the ground, chest heaving and hair disheveled from sleep.

Daryl began climbing down the ladder, "It's a fuckin'  _herd_ Rick. Where tha' hell is Byron and why didn't he report we had a herd comin' for us?"

"I don't know, but I fully intend on findin' out," Rick said gravely as Daryl stepped off the ladder.

More people began pouring out of houses, alarmed by the commotion, and Daryl scanned the crowd for Dwight. The man's scarred face was easy to pick out of a crowd, but he was nowhere in sight and Daryl didn't have the luxury of time. He needed to get to Beth  _now_.

"Open tha' gates," Daryl yelled over to the two men in charge of pulling the chains that controlled the large, steel doors.

"Sasha! We got some goin' outside the gate," Rick yelled to the top of the wall, "Cover 'em."

Sasha pulled back the lever of her rifle, reloading the gun, "Tell them to hurry their asses up."

"Get 'er and get back," Rick said solemnly, placing a hand on Daryl's shoulder and ushering him toward the gate.

Daryl took two steps outside before he heard his name being yelled. Turning back he could see Dwight running towards him with a handful of his more experienced shooters.

"You thought I'd let you have all tha' fun?" Dwight snickered as they ran towards the tree line.

"Couldn't afford t'wait," Daryl replied with his eyes trained on Beth.

She was sluggish, barely able to lift her blade, and he knew she was on the verge of collapsing. He yelled for her, but he knew his voice was lost between the shots being fired and the chaos around them. He panicked when he realized she hadn't noticed the walker approaching her from left. He tried hollering for her once more, but his attempts were in vain. She spun at the last minute, throwing the arm covered in the metal brace of her weapon up just in time for the corpse to bite down on her blade.

He willed his legs to move faster, but it suddenly seemed like the more speed he gained, the farther away Beth was from him. The world around him dimmed, engulfing him in darkness, and he forced himself to push harder. He could see that she was losing the battle. She was exhausted and the only thing keeping the walker at bay was a thin slice of metal.

He could no longer hear the bullets whizzing past him or Dwight's voice giving orders. There was only complete silence. He tried to scream for her, but his words stayed lodged in his throat. He wasn't covering any distance. It was as if he was running in place and Beth was just out of reach. His eyes widened as Beth's arm gave way to the teeth gnashing on her machete. His vision turned crimson as the walker tore into her throat.

A scream pierced the air.

…

Daryl shot up in his bed. A scream erupted from his lips as he fumbled to get the sheets off of him and clambered up his bed, into the wall. His chest heaved and he was covered in a light sheen of sweat. He could feel his heart thudding against his chest as his eyes darted frantically around the room. Once obtaining his surroundings, he let his muscles go lax when he realized it had all been a dream.

Burying his face in his hands, Daryl tried to get his breathing under control. The sun was filtering through his window, but from its height in the sky as it peeked over the roofs of the houses, he calculated that it had only been a few hours since he'd returned home. He knew he should try to get a few more hours of sleep, but after his most recent nightmare, he grimaced at the thought.

His night had continued as usual after Beth left. He'd eaten a quick meal, taken a shift along the wall until the early hours of the morning, and then dragged his feet home where he'd collapsed on his bed, still in his clothes. While immune to his own scent, he couldn't help but notice the subtle hint of an aroma he had never thought he'd smell again, each time he inhaled. Beth had slept in his bed the past three days, so it should have come as no surprise that her fragrance permeated his sheets, but he'd found himself breathing in deeply nonetheless. He'd been able to fall asleep with an unfamiliar sort of ease and had hoped for a dreamless slumber. However his dreams had taken a new turn, replaying the recent events of the herd attack and manipulating them into his worst fear; he had once again been too late to save her in his dream.

A knock on his door suddenly caught his attention and Daryl sighed. Running his hands through his hair, he got out of bed and sluggishly removed his clothes from the previous day. Knowing Dwight was the only one brave, or stupid enough to wake him so early, he languidly gathered a new set of garments. Once dressed in a clean pair of pants, he grabbed a stained, gray t-shirt and shuffled down the hall as another set of knocks persisted. Opening the door, not bothering to put on his shirt, Daryl was blinded by the early morning sunshine.

"Dwight, man," rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms, Daryl grumbled, "you gotta' stop waking me up so early when I got night shift."

When no reply came, he blinked his eyes open to see not Dwight, but Morgan standing on his porch.

"Sorry for callin' on you so early in tha' mornin'," Morgan said politely, but his body language exuded anxiety.

"Nah. 'S okay," Daryl pushed the hair out of his eyes and stood a little straighter, "What's goin' on?"

"Is Beth here?" Morgan cut right to the chase.

"No," Daryl shook his head.

"Damn," Morgan ran a hand over his face, "She musta' snuck off again."

"What happened?" Daryl asked while quickly slipping on his shirt as he grabbed his crossbow by the front door and stepped out on the porch.

"Last night," Morgan sighed, "Apparently things didn't go as well as I'd hoped they would. I woke up an' Beth wasn't anywhere t'be found."

"You check around?" Daryl questioned as he scanned the community with sharp eyes.

"Yeah," Morgan nodded, "She ain't here."

Daryl clenched his jaw. Beth was still recovering from the last time she had ventured outside the walls. With his nightmare still weighing on his mind, Daryl felt as anxious as Morgan looked.

"She's been…sneakin' out," Morgan's tone dropped quiet enough for only Daryl to hear.

"I know" Daryl admitted smoothly

Morgan nodded and further explained, "When this place gets t'be too much for her, she sometimes runs off somewhere. She won't tell me where she goes though. She knows I'd go after her if she did," he sighed deeply, "I'm gonna' start lookin' in tha' woods and-"

"I'll find 'er," Daryl declared, cutting him off.

"I'm partly responsible for her runnin' off," Morgan countered, "I can't ask you t'risk yourself goin' out there."

"She'd never forgive herself if soemthin' happened t'you," Daryl retorted, "'Sides, I know tha' area better'n you."

Morgan dropped his head, "Thank you."

Daryl patted the man's shoulder and moved around to walk down the steps of his porch before Morgan stopped him once more.

"When you find her…will you tell her somethin' for me?" He asked still standing on the porch.

Daryl's eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"Tell her…choices, chances, and changes," he continued vaguely, "She'll know what I'm talkin' 'bout."

"Alright," Daryl agreed, "I'll let 'er know."

Morgan gave a faint smile and with the conversation over, Daryl moved towards the gates of Alexandria.

…

He traveled through the woods, stepping over the twice dead bodies, as he advanced towards his deer stand. He stayed low to the ground, keeping his footsteps silent while maneuvering through the trees and around the underbrush. He had counted at least a dozen bodies along the way. Had circumstances been different, he would feel more impressed instead of trepidation at the knowledge that Beth had been out here,  _by_   _herself_ , fighting for her life.

Stepping lightly on the fallen leaves, Daryl was slightly surprised to see the dead around the tree in which his deer stand had been built were already neatly piled together. Only two people knew where his hideaway was located, Rick and Dwight, but he obviously needed to add one more name to that list. He wasn't sure if he should be angry or relieved when he saw tendrils of golden hair peeking around the tree, but he decided to just be content with the fact that he'd found her uninjured.

"Morgan send you?" Her voice floated through the air.

"He told me you had snuck out again," Daryl admitted, "but I came lookin' for you on my own."

Daryl saw a flash of blue as she looked down at him, "How'd you find me?"

Daryl smirked and began climbing the short, wooden boards he'd nailed in the tree to act as a ladder, "You happen t'be sittin' in my deer stand."

"It's nice up here," she murmured, turning her gaze back to the morning sun.

"Why I picked this spot t'build it," Daryl agreed, stepping onto the small wooden deck.

Beth scooted over, revealing half of the wooden board he used as a seat, and Daryl carefully sat down beside her. Daryl felt apprehensive being so close to her. He'd carried her back to Alexandria, depositing her in the infirmary so that the town doctor could give her a once over, but he hadn't had time to focus on the warmth of her skin or how much he'd missed the way she smelled. Sitting next to her now, he recognized _everything_.

"You gonna' ask me why I'm here?" She broke the silence first.

"You gonna' tell me?" He countered, leaving the direction of the conversation to what she felt like revealing.

Beth sighed and Daryl held his breath. It had been over a week since Beth had reappeared in his life, but he still relished in the sound of her breathing. Breathing meant she was  _alive_ and he was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he  _hadn't_ lost her…not  _completely_.

"Maggie wants me t'go with them to Hilltop," Beth disclosed impassively.

"Figured she'd ask as much," Daryl replied sourly.

"You coulda' given me a heads up," Beth grumbled.

"Whadn't my place," he glanced at her.

"It's not mine either," Beth breathed, "She may be related t'me by blood, but she's a complete stranger. She's not my family."

Daryl may not have cared much for Maggie after the situation with Beth, but if their conversation last night had gone anything like this, he could only imagine how the older Greene had taken it.

"Morgan agreed to whatever I decided," Beth sagged against him.

"Course he did," Daryl leaned his elbows on his knees, subtly supporting her weight, "He wants what's best for ya'."

"Leavin' me t'discuss this sort of stuff with complete strangers when he knows that I'm not good with people?" Beth glanced at him, raising an eyebrow.

Daryl smirked.

Sighing, Beth continued, "I know he wanted to give me some privacy with Maggie and didn't want me t'feel pressured with him bein' there or whatever, but he already knew what my answer would be tha' moment they discussed it with him."

"And what's your answer?" Daryl asked in an even tone.

"I'm not goin' anywhere," Beth said with a finality that made Daryl's chest swell.

They sat in silence for a few moments, absorbing the tranquility around them, and breathing in the cool morning air. It had rained during the night, covering the ground with a layer of mist, making everything seem iridescent in the rays of the sun.

"Morgan wanted me t'give you a message," Daryl's voice rumbled from how quietly he spoke.

Beth looked at him expectantly.

"He said t'remember choices, chances, and changes," he rambled the words out awkwardly.

Beth rolled her eyes.

"He said you'd know what it meant," he added, even more confused by her reaction than the message.

"Oh I know  _exactly_  what it means," she muttered, "He's such a stubborn old man."

Daryl didn't want to ask, but he was curious as to what this private conversation he had relayed to her meant. She must have been able to read his expression because as her shoulders sagged dejectedly she elaborated.

"Morgan has these…sayings," Beth explained after a moment of thought, "about life."

Daryl remained silent and waited for her to continue.

"He called it 'The three C's in Life; choices, chances, and changes. He told me that 'we've all got t'make hard choices in life, but you have t'make a choice to take 'ah chance or your life will never change.' In other words," she drawled, "he's suggesting I take a chance…no a  _risk_ , and leave him behind t'go with my 'sister.' He's all about making sure I don't have any regrets. Says he has plenty enough for tha' both of us."

"Sounds like somethin' your old man said t'Rick once," Daryl looked from Beth down to his hands, "Said that everything we do in this world, we risk our lives, but tha' only thing we can choose is what we're riskin' it for."

"Sounds like my dad and Morgan would've gotten along," Beth laughed softly.

"Two old geezers tradin' wise man's tales," Daryl smirked.

"We're supposed t'respect our elders," Beth smiled, sitting upright and nudging him with her shoulder.

Daryl's breath left his lungs in a rush. For a split second, she had sounded exactlylike  _his_  Beth and her smile was the same she had given him a thousand times.

"That's what Morgan said anyway," she continued, oblivious to his reaction, "I've never been very good at it though,"

Taking a deep breath, Daryl snorted, "Yeah, me neither."

Silence resumed between them and Daryl pushed off of his knees and leaned back to rest his head against the rough bark of the tree.

"Do you mind…" Beth's voice trailed off.

"Hmm?" Daryl's rough voice hummed.

"You mind sharin' your tree stand?" She inquired hesitantly.

"Nah. You're welcome to it," Daryl blinked up at the fading leaves still attached to the branches above them, "I've gotta' make some adjustments though."

"Adjustments?" Beth's questioned beside him.

"Yeah," Daryl sat up and met her gaze, "Seat big enough for tha' both of us an' a few more support beams to hold our weight."

"You tryin' t'say something?" Beth's tone took a mischievous lilt.

"Yeah," Daryl smirked, "Twenty foot drop would hurt like a bitch if this thing fell out from under us."

"I'm sure it would," Beth's voice had lost its playful undertone.

Clearing his throat, realizing the sun was much higher in the sky than when he'd arrived, Daryl knew they needed to get back.

"I told Morgan I'd find you," Daryl informed her.

"And you did," she turned her eyes away from the sky to look at him, "but I suppose you're expectin' me t'go back with you?"

"'Less you want t'attract more attention to yer' sneakin' out. People were wonderin' how you got through the gates," Daryl replied, "Rick's pretty proud of our walls and it'll be my ass if he finds out we got someone not only sneakin' out, but also back  _in_  without anybody noticin'."

"I think I caused enough trouble the other day," Beth sighed.

"You done better than our scouts," Daryl murmured as he began climbing down his makeshift ladder.

He waited for Beth to begin climbing down; his hands hovered as she neared the ground in case she fell, and once they were both back on Earth, they began making the trek back to the Safe Zone.

"Thanks," she said beside him as they moved through the trees, "for listenin' to me and not sayin' anything."

"It's no big deal," Daryl shrugged his shoulders.

"T'me it is," Beth said so quietly that he almost didn't catch it.

Daryl was trying to think of a reply when she continued.

"I can see why I liked you," she looked up at him, "when I knew you  _before_."

Daryl kept his face neutral and turned away, feeling exposed until her scrutiny.

"You wouldn't be sayin' that if you remembered how much of 'ah piece of shit I was when I met you," Daryl admitted bitterly.

"Guess it's a good thing I don't remember then," he could hear the smile in her voice and couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips.

"I suppose so," he finally glanced at her and was met with the same smile he'd seen in the deer stand.

As they got closer to the clearing, Beth stopped, and realizing she was no longer walking beside him, Daryl twisted around curiously.

"I gotta' go this way," she motioned toward the bushes beside her, "Otherwise they'll see me crossin' the field.

Daryl nodded, making a mental note of where she was crossing, "Alright."

"I'll go find Morgan, explain things t'Maggie. Mind if I bring my machete over later?" She asked, "If you still wanna' help me replace the lining?"

"Sure. I ain't gotta' do nothin' until this evenin' so just come by whenever," Daryl agreed with a nod.

"'Kay," she gave a small smile, "I'll see you later then."

He watched her maneuver down the path she'd created and once she was out of sight, he turned and exited the woods. When the gates of Alexandria came into view, he scanned the clearing for any sign of Beth, but there were no traces of her anywhere. Smirking, he trudged through the dry, dying weeds and eventually stepped onto the road made by the wagon's that came and went between communities.

Although the day had begun as a nightmare, he wasn't disappointed with the way it had ended. He'd found Beth, being able to keep his word to Morgan, spent the morning in one of his favorite places with someone who seemed to appreciate it as much, if not more, than he did, and even had arrangements to meet with her again after she'd finished up her family business.

Entering the gates and walking down the dirt path toward his home, Daryl glanced around the community that he had helped Rick shape. He passed by Dwight's house, waving as Sherry tended to her yard, and catching Dwight at the gate.

"You know," his second in command began, "one of these days you're not gonna' come back from outside those walls."

"I'll worry about that when it happens," Daryl replied smugly.

"Yeah and your ass will be leavin' me with a shit ton of extra work," Dwight sneered, "It's dangerous out there. I sure hope your lil' excursions are worth tha' risk."

Daryl looked back toward the gates, a small smile gracing his lips, "Yeah. They're worth it."

Sighing, Dwight patted his arm a few times, "Rick's got info on Byron. I told him I'd let you know when I saw ya'."

"I'll swing by 'fore I go home," Daryl replied, swatting Dwight's arm away.

"Alright man," Dwight turned back toward his yard, "I'll catch you later."

Daryl grunted a reply and proceeded down the road.

Dwight's words echoed in his thoughts. Daryl had a huge amount of responsibility to the people of Alexandria. His trips outside the wall were a risk, but a necessary one for his sanity. There were so many things that were out of his control and it had only gotten worse when the world fell into chaos. However, it was just as Hershel had said; nothing in life ever came without taking some sort of risk.

_'The only thing you can choose is what you are risking it for...'_

...

 **A/N:** I used a combination of 2 quotes in this chapter during the scene when Beth explains Morgan's message to her through Daryl.

The first quote is: " _The 3 C's of Life: Choices, Chances, Changes._ _You must make a choice to take a chance or your life will never change_." - Unknown.

The second quote is an altered version of: " _You step outside, you risk your life. You take a drink of water, you risk your life. And nowadays you breathe, and you risk your life. Every moment now...you don't have a choice. The only thing you can choose is what you are risking it for. Now, I can make these people feel better and hang on a little bit longer. I can save lives. And that's enough reason to risk mine."_ \- Hershel to Rick and Maggie in season 4 episode 3: Isolation.

Also, I know Morgan isn't THAT much older than Daryl…well…actually I don't. We don't know exactly how old Daryl is, but Morgan IS quite a bit older according to the websites I scoured. I'd even go as far as to say he's a bit older than Rick. Plus with everything Morgan has been through, it would age him mentally more so than physically. So I'm going to guesstimate he's probably at least a decade older and that gives Daryl plenty of room to joke about Morgan being an 'old geezer.'

As I said, I haven't been feeling great the past week, so I hope that doesn't reflect in my writing! Leave me some feedback and let me know what you thought about the chapter! XOXO


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:**  A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

 **Thank you** Nicole for getting this edited for me!! : )

...

Climbing the fence and walking across Alexandria to her ‘new home,’ Beth entered the house with a sense of apprehension. She knew the impending conversation would be uncomfortable, but it was unavoidable. Beth wasn’t used to seeing people cry. She’d only cried a few times, mainly out of frustration during her rehabilitation, and could only recall seeing Morgan shed tears  _once_ ; during his brief explanation of losing his wife and then Duane a year or two later. Therefore, she wasn’t sure if she dreaded the conversation more or the tears she knew Maggie would inevitably shed.

The small child Maggie had been holding was playing with a wooden, no doubt handmade, toy car on the floor. Glenn was sitting beside him while Morgan and Maggie were settled on the couch with their backs to her. Morgan rose from his seat and Maggie turned to give her an uncertain smile.

“Enjoy your trip?” Morgan asked with a hint of aggravation in his voice.

“As a matter of fact I did,” Beth replied cheekily.

She refused to feel guilty for her momentary escape when he had left her to deal with the Maggie ‘situation’ by herself the night before. It may have been petty, but she felt it was only fair for him to be put in the same ‘situation,’ dealing with an upset Maggie, when they awoke to find her missing.

“Mmm hmm,” Morgan hummed with a slight frown, “Did you have a visitor? Or decide on your own that you’d been gone too long?”

Beth tilted her head, “What do you think?”

Morgan smiled, “I’m glad he found ya’.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Beth smiled and swatted his arm playfully.

Morgan’s face fell and Beth took note of the deep lines of his face, “No more sneakin’ out without tellin’ me you’re…sneakin’ out.”

She smirked as his choice of words, “I promise I’ll let you know next time.”

“Good,” he took a step back nodded behind him, “They were worried too.”

Beth glanced at Maggie and Glenn, both trying desperately to act as if they couldn’t hear the conversation behind them, and slowly removed the bandolier slung across her chest.

“Are you…?” Her voice trailed off.

“I’ll be right here,” he answered her unfinished question as he took her machete from her.

She gave him a faint smile, “‘Kay.”

Taking a deep breath, she moved around the older man and took his seat on the couch.

“Hershel,” Maggie called to the young boy, “C’mere sweety. I have someone I want you t’meet.”

The child ignored her and continued playing with his car.

“Hershel Rhee,” Beth noted the seriousness in Maggie’s voice, “Right now mister.”

“Listen to your mom,” Glenn whispered and took the car from the boy.

Standing, the child grumbled and approached his mother, giving Beth a few shy glances.

“This is your aunt,” Maggie motioned with one hand while wrapping the other around her son’s waist, “This is Beth. My sister.”

“Is she the Beth you tole’ me about in my bedtime stories?” His innocent brown eyes looked from his mother to Beth.

Maggie let out a small laugh, “Yes. She’s the same Beth that was taken by the bad men.”

“She helped Mr. Noah get out,” Hershel stated, looking back up at Maggie.

“Yes, yes she did,” Beth thought Maggie sounded somewhat proud, “Why don’t you go say hello?”

“Okay,” the boy said with a nod and turned his gaze back to Beth.

It was odd hearing people talking about her, in her own presence no less, about instances she had no memory of. Though they may have been bedtime stories, they might as well have been fairy tales to Beth.

“Hi,” Hershel said quietly focusing on a spot on the couch and flicking his brown eyes up to her every so often.

“Hi,” Beth replied, feeling as awkward as the toddler looked.

She didn't know how she felt about children in the general sense. She hadn't had any issues with Judith, but that was the first and  _only_ experience she’d ever had with a child...that she could remember. However, if what people said about her past self was true, she seemed to be a ‘natural’ with little ones.

Taking a calming breath, Beth tried again, “So you’re my nephew, huh?”

“That’s what Momma says,” his reply caught Beth off guard and she couldn't help but laugh.

“Sorry,” Maggie apologized, giving Hershel a look, “The kid says whatever he thinks.”

“He’s fine,” Beth gave a genuine smile and turned back to Hershel, “So how old are ya’ kiddo?”

“I’m three...” he concentrated and eventually showed her three short, chubby fingers, "and a half."

“Wow,” Beth’s lips curved at his pronunciation, “You’re almost all grown up!”

“See Momma,” Hershel turned to his mother, “I tole’ you I wasn't a  _baby_.”

“Hershel, I never said you were  _a_  baby-”

“Yes huh!” The younger boy interrupted Maggie, “You call me a baby  _all_  the time. I kept tryin’ to  _tell_  you, I’m a big boy now,” he finished and puffed his chest.

"Hershel Everett Rhee," Maggie scolded her son, "You'd better watch your tone young man."

The boy dropped his head and toed one of his shoes into the wooden floor, mumbling a quiet, "Yes ma'am."

Beth felt herself biting her lip, trying not to smile, as Hershel’s attention returned to her.

“Momma said you live with Grandpa, up in Heaven,” Hershel scrunched his face up at her, “Did you come'd back to visit?”

"Uh..." Beth's face fell and she glanced up at Maggie, who seemed just as perplexed on how to answer his question.

“Mr. Noah tole’ me the story of how you helped him,” Hershel continued, “He says you were  _really_  brave.”

“Mr…Noah?” Beth inquired and heard Morgan shuffle behind her.

“Yeah. He lives at home,” the child informed her, “He makes sure the bad guys stay away from the walls. He plays with me too...when Momma and Daddy are busy.”

“Sounds like he’s an important guy,” Beth smiled at the child’s obvious admiration of ‘Mr. Noah.’

“You should come see him,” Hershel smiled toothily, “He always says that ‘Ms. Beth was the prettiest girl he ever saw’d.’”

Beth’s smile widened. Whoever this 'Noah' person was, she had no doubt that he would be mortified if he knew what her 'nephew' was telling her.

“Alright big guy,” Glenn whisked his son off the floor, “Why don’t we go outside and play while Mommy and Aunt Beth talk.”

“Can we play that game with the ball again?” Hershel asked as Glenn walked them around the couch.

“Absolutely,” Glenn enthused, “We gotta’ work on your form if you’re going to be the first quarterback of the new world.”

Beth had no idea what Glenn was talking about, but she assumed that it wasn’t anything of importance from the way Maggie rolled her eyes and laughed.

“He’s somethin’ else,” Beth remarked good-naturedly.

“Kid’s a handful,” Maggie sniggered.

The room quickly sobered and Beth peeked over her shoulder to check on Morgan, who was casually leaning against the wall where she had left him. He motioned with his hand for her to ‘get on with it’ and Beth narrowed her eyes at him to tell him ‘don’t rush me.’

“So,” Maggie broke the silence and regained Beth’s attention.

“Yeah,” Beth breathed.

The silence resumed and Beth tried not to fidget. When frustration finally won over patience, she decided to get the conversation over with.

“Look…Maggie,” Beth began, “I know we’re supposed to be ‘family,’ but I don’t-”

“You don’t have t’explain,” Maggie lifted a hand and stopped her, “Morgan already talked t’me about it.”

“He did?” Beth looked over her shoulder with less subtlety and found Morgan casually picking at his nails with a pocketknife; her bandolier hanging on his forearm.

“He’d already told me what happened, while you were recovering, about findin’ you behind tha’ church,” Maggie blinked her eyes rapidly, “but this mornin’ he told me…”

Beth found herself hanging on Maggie’s every word.

Taking a deep breath and pressing her lips tightly together, Maggie straightened her shoulder and met Beth’s stare, “He told me that for the past three years, all the two ‘ah you have had is each other. He said that, when you woke up, you were like a child. Completely oblivious to the ways of the world now. He said he’d ‘raised’ you tha’ best he could, taught you how t’walk, taught you how t’fight, and taught you how t’survive.”

“He never gave up on me,” Beth stated, “Which is why I’ll never give up on him.”

Maggie smiled, “I realize that my request for you t’come with us, back to Hilltop, was…so  _selfish_. I’m sorry I did that to you. It wasn’t until we talked this mornin’ that I understood everything.”

“Understood everything?” Beth wasn’t exactly sure what Maggie was referring to.

“Understood that he views you as his lil’ girl. He worries for you, takes care of you, an’ dotes on you, just like Daddy did. You’re in good hands with him,” Maggie reached out and held her hand, “I jus’ want you t’be happy.”

Beth took a shaky breath, “I’m workin’ on it.”

Patting her hand, Maggie let go and sat up straight once more, “Good. The offer to come stay with us is  _always_ open. Whenever you want. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Thanks,” Beth said with a smile, “Maybe-”

Glenn opened the door, Hershel propped against his hip, and interrupted Beth’s statement.

Morgan pushed off the wall and inquired, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Glenn replied, “There’s a guy here to see you two.”

Beth looked to Maggie, “I’ll be right back.”

Maggie nodded and Beth rose from her seat, following Morgan into the front yard.

A man, clad in body armor and a rifle resting on his back, stood at the end of their walkway.

“Can we help you?” Morgan asked as they approached the stranger.

“Hope so mate,” the man replied in an accent Beth had never heard before, “Name's Cooper. You can call me Coop. I work under Dwight taking care of our scouts.”

“Nice t’meet ya’,” Morgan shook the man’s hand, “Name's Morgan and this here’s Beth.”

Cooper reached out and shook both of their hands, “Pleasure.”

“There somethin’ you need from us?”  Morgan inquired earnestly.

“I got your names off tha’ list Sherry had in ‘er office. Said you two were looking to do some runs outside the walls,” Cooper explained, “Wanted to know if the pair of ya’ would be willin’ to run a patrol down the southern roads?”

“Where tha’ herd came from,” Beth crossed her arms over her chest.

“That’d be the one,” he nodded to her, “We need someone to replace Byron. Seems he won’t be able to run patrols for us anymore.”

They didn’t need Cooper to explain why they required a new patrol. It was understood that when someone could no longer  _do_  something, it generally meant they were no longer among the living.

“You want the both of us?” Morgan inquired, “I thought scouts usually made their runs solo?”

“Usually,” Cooper admitted, “With tha’ herd, we’ve been ordered to double up on the scouts making patrols outside the walls. That and it bein’ the both of you’s first time out, thought it’d be a better idea to send you together. You can decide who keeps the job when you’re not such newbies.”

“Newbies?” Beth scoffed at the notion.

Morgan ignored Cooper’s jab and turned to Beth, “You up for it?”

“When d’we leave?” Beth’s gaze drifted from Morgan to Cooper.

“Meet me at the stables in five. I’ll be providin’ a map, a herding horn, and have the stable hands get the horses ready while you get what you need here,” Cooper informed them.

“How long will this take?” Beth asked, looking over her shoulder to Maggie and Glenn standing in the doorway.

“Couple of hours,” Cooper rubbed his chin in thought, “Could take longer if you have to stop and rest your legs. It’s a good twenty miles from Alexandria to the trade off point where the scouts of Hilltop patrol.”

It was nearly noon and a couple of hours would have them back in Alexandria later in the evening. She had planned to meet with Daryl as soon as she finished talking with Maggie, but with the change of plans, she knew she wouldn’t be making it back in time before whatever his plans were for the evening.  

Cooper’s voice cut into her thoughts when he continued, “The main road is reinforced, but you’ll need to veer off into the woods and keep an eye out for mobs of those undead bastards. We want to keep them off the roads if at all possible.”

In the years she’d spent getting reacquainted with the world; she had become a very capable tracker. It was something Morgan has shown her while hunting one day and she had picked up on it immediately. In time, they had gotten to the point where Morgan kept lookout and left the tracking solely to Beth. Her keen eyes saw things that Morgan might not have immediately caught and being smaller; it was less of a hassle for her to move through the brush.

“Good t’know,” Morgan confirmed and added, “We’ll meet you at the stables in ‘ah few minutes.”

“Good on ya’ mate,” Cooper said in mock salute and left Beth standing at the gate with Morgan.

When he was out of earshot, Beth whispered up to Morgan, “Why’d he talk so funny?”

Morgan barked out a sharp laugh and wiped a hand down his face trying to cover his smile, “He’s…not from around here. Probably got stuck here when tha’ epidemic took hold.”

“So he couldn’t just make a trip back where he came from?” Beth asked as they made their way back to the house.

Morgan chuckled once more, “Not unless he has ‘ah boat…and a lotta’ gasoline.”

“Oh,” Beth glanced over her shoulder, feeling sad for the man who would probably never get a chance to see him ‘home’ again.

“He’s still alive,” Morgan said as if reading her thoughts, “That counts for somethin’.”

“Yeah,” Beth turned back to doorway.

They walked up the steps in silence and met Maggie and Glenn still standing at the door with Hershel held between them.

“Everything alright?” Glenn echoed the words Morgan had asked him just moments before.

“We got asked t’make the patrol run down tha’ southern roads,” Beth explained.

“You refuse?” Maggie questioned, sounding hopeful.

“No. They need someone t’patrol the roads and I’d rather that someone be us,” Beth said confidently, “We’re used to it out there.”

“When do you leave?” Glenn asked, hoisting Hershel higher on his hip.

“We have t’meet Cooper at the stables in five minutes,” Morgan spoke beside her, “We should only be gone a couple ‘ah hours. You’re welcome t’stay here if you’d like.”

“That’s okay,” Glenn replied, “We need to get back to Hilltop. This is the first time  _both_  of us have been gone at the same time. We need to make sure the walls are still standing.”

“Alright,” Morgan nodded and looked down at Beth, “I’ll get our bags. You say your goodbyes.”

“‘Kay,” Beth nodded and took her machete from Morgan.

“It’s was ‘ah pleasure meetin’ you two,” Morgan announced, politely shaking Glenn’s hand and giving Maggie a brief hug.

“Thank you for takin’ care of my sister,” Maggie squeezed an arm around Morgan’s shoulder.

Stepping back, Morgan smiled and replied, “Most of the time it’s her takin’ care ‘ah me.”

“Thank you all tha’ same,” Maggie returned his smile.

Morgan maneuvered around them into the house and Beth was left standing on the porch with her ‘family.’

“You be careful out there,” Glenn held out his free hand and wavered, slowly reaching up to wrap it loosely around her shoulders.

Beth nodded and patted his back awkwardly.

“We’ll probably pass each other on the road,” Maggie stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Beth’s shoulders with more confidence than her husband had.

“Maybe,” Beth reached up and timidly wrapped her hands around her sister’s biceps, “We have to scout off the main road too.”

Maggie stepped back and held Beth at arm’s length, “You take care ‘ah yourself.”

“I will,” Beth answered genuinely, “You guys too.”

“We’ll be fine with you patrolling ahead of us,” Maggie said with a smile and dropped her arms from Beth’s side, “Hershel, tell Aunt Beth goodbye.”

Hershel, wooden car in hand, looked up and gave a toothy smile, “Bye.”

“It was nice t’meet you,” Beth reached out and ruffled his hair.

“We’re going to say goodbye to our friends here and head out in an hour or so,” Glenn announced, handing Hershel to Maggie.

“Alright,” Beth acknowledged.

“Our offer's always open,” Maggie told her once more, “Don’t be a stranger.”

Beth smirked at the pun, realizing Maggie had a very similar sense of humor to her own and was just as proficient in the use of sarcasm.

Morgan emerged from the house a few moments later and with their goodbyes said, they headed to the stables to meet Cooper.

…

Daryl pushed opened the door to Rick’s office, finding the older man hunched over his desk, flipping through paperwork.

Sitting his crossbow in the hall, he quietly knocked on the door, causing Rick to look up at him and wave him inside.

“Dwight said you got word on Byron,” he explained while closing the door.

“I gave him ‘ah brief rundown earlier,” Rick affirmed.

“So what’s tha’ deal?” Daryl plopped down in a chair in front of Rick’s desk, “How’d ‘ah herd get by him?”

“We sent ‘ah runner out yesterday t’check the roads,” Rick began, “Dwight’s findin’ people who can fill the spot temporarily until someone can take the job permanently.”

“Yeah?” Daryl stretched out his legs and crossed his feet at his ankles.

“One of tha’ guys found Byron hangin’ from a tree, in the middle of the woods, about eight miles out,” Rick slid a piece of paper across his desk, “he’d turned. What was left of his horse was found ‘ah couple yards away.”

“Suicide?” Daryl asked skeptically, “What tha’ hell would he do that for?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Rick leaned back in his chair and rested his hands behind his head.

“Guy has ‘ah kid on tha’ way,” Daryl flung the report back on Rick’s desk, “Ain’t no way he’d cut out early.”

“It doesn’t sound right t’me either,” Rick’s eyes focused on a spot on the wall and Daryl recognized that his friend was going into ‘cop mode.’

“Anyone else out there with him?” Daryl inquired.

“Not according t’Sherry’s records. Just Byron,” Rick replied, still staring into the distance.

“The fuck was he thinkin’?” Daryl grumbled and ran a hand through his disheveled hair, “You tell his old lady yet?”

“Rosita’s friends with her,” Rick cut his eyes from the wall back to Daryl, “She was in here when I explained things t’Dwight. She said she’d handle it.”

Daryl nodded.

Daryl supposed it was probably best hearing such news from a friend rather than any of them. She was lucky in a way. Not everyone got such a luxury. In most cases, people witnessed the death of their significant other. He’d had the misfortune of finding his own brother, already turned, and he’d had to put an end to Merle’s reanimation.  _That_  was something he would  _never_  wish even on his worst enemy. When his reflections began to veer towards Beth, the memory of her at Grady Memorial forever haunting him, he squeezed his eyes shut and willed his thoughts to the back of his mind.

“I’ve informed Dwight t’pay extra attention to tha’ roads for ‘ah while. There hasn’t been any activity on tha’ road to The Kingdom, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be,” Rick commented and dropped his hands back on his desk while shifting in his chair.

Before Daryl could reply, Dwight burst through the door and quickly scanned the room.

“Daryl?” Dwight huffed, shutting the door behind him, before immediately blurting out an apology, “Daryl, man, I’m sorry.”

Daryl stood and narrowed his eyes, “Sorry fer’ what?”

“Look, I was busy with setting up shifts on the wall and asked Cooper t’find someone to run patrol on the southern roads,” Dwight ran a hand over the scarred side of his face, “He went an’ got the list from Sherry. He told her he needed tha’ names of people who’d volunteered to work outside the walls.”

“What’re you gettin’ at Dwight?” Daryl fisted his hands as every muscle in his body tensed in anticipation.

“They...she requested to work outside. She put her name down for the herders, runners, patrols, and everythin’ else we got goin’ on out there,” Dwight shifted from one foot to another.

“ _Who_?” Daryl asked, even though he already knew the person’s name.

“… _Beth_ ,” Dwight sagged in defeat, “It’s my fault. I should’ve put off tha’ scheduling and found somebody myself.”

Daryl felt his nails digging into the toughened skin of his palms.

“I didn’t know,” Dwight tried to explain, “I had no idea she put her name down to work outside. If I had, I would’ve told them to cross her off the list.”

Breathing deeply, Daryl felt heat radiating off of his skin. He wanted to punch something, namely Dwight, but he knew that would do nothing to help their situation and he respected the man too much to actually do so. Instead, he settled for grabbing the chair he’d just been sitting in and chucking it across Rick’s office. The wooden seat clattered into the opposite brick wall and crumbled to the ground. Leaning over Rick’s desk, knuckles white from how hard he gripped the lip of the counter, Daryl’s chest heaved as he struggled with his anger.

Closing his eyes, he managed to focus enough to speak, “She by ‘erself?”

“No. Cooper sent Morgan with her,” Dwight replied from where he’d moved away from the door.

“How long they been gone?” Daryl stood and glared.

“Thirty minutes or so,” Dwight answered honestly.

“We had someone found hangin’ from ‘ah tree,” Daryl threw an arm out in the general direction of the roads, “‘an they don’t think to send out someone with fallmore patrol experience?”

“Daryl,” Rick’s tone placating, “We don’t know if anything happened with Byron-”

“That’s tha’ point,” Daryl interrupted, “We  _don’t_   _know_ what happened.”

Rick let him finish before continuing, “-and if we’re bein’ honest, Beth and Morgan are probably the best ones suited to be out there right now.”

“What’re you tryin’ t’say?” Daryl spat.

“I’m sayin’ that we’ve been livin’ behind these walls for the past  _three_   _years_ ,” Rick elaborated, “We all remember what it’s like t’be out there, but none of us are as sharp as we were three years ago. Beth an’ Morgan haven’t had any walls to protect them…they’ve had to  _survive_. They travelled all tha’ way from Georgia, just the two of ‘em, to get here. They make this run and when they get back, I’ll make sure Beth’s name…that  _both_  of their names are removed from outer wall duties.”

Daryl’s glare remained in place, but his anger had slightly subsided, “You make sure of it.”

“You got my word,” Rick replied firmly.

 Daryl gave a nod and glanced at Dwight, standing across the room looking as guilt ridden as he’d ever seen the man. Having nothing more to say, Daryl stalked out of the room, grabbing his crossbow off the ground as he went. With determined steps, he marched straight towards the walls, and any notions of a relaxing evening working on Beth’s machete were gone.

…

Placing a chair in the middle of the walkway along the top of the wall, Daryl had kept his gaze focused on the tree line all afternoon. When his eyes needed a break, he’d dropped his head and gnawed on his thumbnail until he’d torn the quick, stopping only when blood began trickling from the abused skin. The sun was still several hours away from setting, but there was still no sign of Beth.

“Becca saw you leave early this morning,” Dwight announced coming up the ladder behind him, “when she was on guard duty.”

“Glad she’s observant,” Daryl snarked.

“You had the night shift last night,” Dwight huffed, “You gotta’ be runnin’ on fumes by now.”

“‘M fine,” Daryl brushed him off.

“You need sleep, man,” Dwight pressed.

Daryl was already on edge and the last thing he needed was someone nagging him to go  _rest_  while Beth was out in the woods.  _She_ was the one who should have been resting. It’d only been a few days since she’d had her encounter with the herd and he knew she hadn’t fully recovered yet.

“I said I’m  _fine_ ,” Daryl barked, glaring over his shoulder.

 Dwight fidgeted, as if trying to decide whether to stand his ground or run, and Daryl refused to feel remorse for snapping at him.

“Any sign of ‘em?” Dwight asked while he dragged a chair across the steel walkway and placed it beside him.

Daryl shook his head and glared down at his bloody nail.

“I know you two…” Dwight began, “I know Beth’s import-”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Daryl growled.

Daryl watched as Dwight’s shoulders sagged beside him.

Breathing in deeply through his nose, Daryl closed his eyes, and forced his anger down.

“Coop and I…we fucked up,” Dwight grumbled and wiped a hand over his mouth.

Daryl didn’t immediately reply. Lifting his head and opening his eyes, he reached for the front pocket of his shirt and pulled out a battered packet of cigarettes. Tilting it sideways, a white stick slid into his hand, and he brought it up to his lips. He hesitated for a moment before offering the packet to Dwight. Lighting his cigarette, he passed the lighter to the man beside him and decided to make an attempt to rid the man of his guilt.

“It ain’t on you, Dwight,” Daryl exhaled smoke as he took another long drag of his cigarette, “If Beth wanted t’go, if she put her name on the list of jobs outside tha’ wall, it ain’t none of our business t’stop her.”

Feeling his edge being dulled by the soothing sensation of nicotine filtering through his system, Daryl exhaled the smoke retained in his lungs. He’d had time to replay the conversation he’d had with Rick in his office at least a hundred times. His immediate reaction had been fear which had quickly turned into anger, confusion and doubt filtered in between, and finally he arrived at acceptance. His mind had played over all the possible scenarios that could happen to her while on the road. He didn’t like the fact that she had willingly put herself in danger, but wasn’t in any sort of position to make decisions for her. There was also the fact that she wasn’t  _alone_  and even though he didn’t want to admit it, Rick had a point; Beth and Morgan were still used to living outside the walls. She’d survived three years out in the world, without him, and he’d just have to have faith that nothing would go wrong during their patrol.

“I just...I didn’t know she was on the list,” Dwight repeated barely above a whisper.

“I know, man,” Daryl’s eyes went back to the trees.

It was getting late into the afternoon. Maggie, Glenn, and their little ankle-biter, as Daryl had dubbed, him, had left several hours ago in their wagon. He supposed if something had happened, they would have rushed back to the safety of Alexandria’s walls. Maggie may have been a lot of things, in his opinion, but she was a good mom. She would never endanger Hershel any longer than the time it took them to make the trip from one walled community to the other.

“Are we good?” He could feel Dwight’s eyes on him.

Inhaling deeply and burning the rest of his cigarette down to the filter, he plucked what was left from his mouth and dropped it onto the metal flooring. Smothering the still lit stick with his boot, he turned to Dwight.

“Yeah,” he nodded a few times languidly, “We’re good.”

Dwight exhaled loudly, blowing smoke into the air, “Alright.”

They sat in silence for a few moments before Dwight stood and pat Daryl’s shoulder a few times. Daryl tore his eyes away from the greenery to look up at his second-in-command.

“I’m gonna’ go check in with the guys on the northern wall,” he said as he approached the ladder to climb down, “Make sure tha’ roads to The Kingdom look clear.”

Daryl nodded and tossed his hand up in a lazy wave.

“If you want someone to keep a lookout for ya’,” Dwight offered as his feet sounded down the steps of the ladder, “Come and get me.”

“Sounds good,” Daryl replied loud enough for Dwight to hear.

Being alone once more, Daryl focused his attention back to the woods, willing two figures on horseback to appear on the road. When none came, he rubbed his face with his hands and resituated himself in his seat in an attempt to get more comfortable. He had no intention of moving until Beth and Morgan rode through their gates. Steeling his nerves, he crossed his arms and continued to wait.

…

“Dar…”

Daryl felt something tugging at his consciousness.

 “…ryl.”

He furrowed his brows and tried to decipher what it was that he was hearing.

“ _Daryl_.”

His eyes flew open as he jumped in his chair.

“Hey…hey,” a female voice said beside him, “It’s just me.”

Blinking his eyes, noticing the sun was slightly lower in the sky than he remembered, he turned his attention to the person sitting next to him.

“Carol?” He asked confusedly.

“That’s my name,” the older, pepper haired woman said with a teasing smile, “You fell asleep.”

“Damnit,” Daryl looked around for any signs of Beth and Morgan, “Have they…?”

“Not yet,” Carol shook her head and pressed her lips into a thin line, “I came up here to check on ya’ and found you nearly falling out of your chair.”

Daryl rubbed his face roughly, blinking away the haze of sleep that lingered, “Know how long I was out?”

“Well,” Carol murmured, “I came across Dwight about an hour ago. He said I could find you up here. Asked me to check on you in ‘ah bit.”

“Not long then,” Daryl sighed in relief.

Daryl dragged his eyes over the clearing below, scanning the line of trees for any movement. Worry had long since been eating away at him. He knew the run should have only taken four to five hours, less if they’d seen something and needed to rush back. That time limit had long since passed.

“I know Beth is a little…different,” Carol spoke quietly, “But she’s still  _Beth._ ”

Daryl nodded, unsure of where Carol was going with her statement.

“What did you tell me that one time?” Her eyes darted back and forth as she looked towards the sky, lost in thought. “When we were following those cops? How’d you phrase it?”

He knew exactly which instance she was referring to.

“Ah,” Carol focused back on him, “‘She’s tough. She saved herself.’”

Daryl bit the inside of his lip and listened as Carol continued.

“She survived being on her own at Grady. She survived being shot,” Carol’s tone turned mischievous at her final statement, “She survived  _you_. I think she can handle a patrol run.”

“You tryin’ t’say something ‘bout me?” Daryl side-eyed her.

“Nothin’ you don’t already know,” Carol laughed and bumped his shoulder with her own.

Daryl let a small laugh escape his lips as he ducked his head down.

Silence resumed, but Daryl felt a little lighter than he had since talking with Rick. Carol hadn’t said anything that he hadn’t already concluded himself, but hearing both Rick  _and_  Carol say that they believed Beth would return was a welcomed reassurance.

Standing, she ruffled his hair and glanced toward the woods, “I’d better…”

Daryl looked up when Carol didn’t finish her sentence.

“Is that…?” Carol shielded her eyes with her hand.

“What?” Daryl rose from his chair and mimicked Carol’s pose, scanning for what she had seen.

“There,” Carol pointed toward what he thought might have been a walker.

He squinted his eyes, noticing the walker was dragging something behind it, and he quickly connected the dots.

“Son of ‘ah bitch,” Daryl swore, clambering down the ladder with Carol right behind him, “Go get Dwight an’ then find the doc.”

“On it,” Carol said in a rush and took off towards the northern side of the wall.

Daryl hollered for the men on duty to open the gates and as soon as he could squeeze through, he was sprinting down the road. His lungs burned, still tasting the cigarette he’d had earlier, as he leapt off the dirt road and into the dead weeds that grabbed at his tattered jeans.

“Beth!” He hollered as she swayed on her feet.

He could hear shouting behind him and pushed his legs to move faster.

“Beth,” he shouted again.

“Daryl?” Her voice broke as she said his name.

When she lifted her head to look at him, he realized how pale her skin looked beneath the streaks of blood. Her lips held no color and the underneath of her eyes were adorned with bruised shades of purple.

“What tha’ hell happened?” He yelled, quickly closing the distance between them.

As soon as he was within arm’s reach, she flung herself towards him and collapsed against his chest.

He caught her easily, steadying her before pulling back and brushing the loose hairs from her face that had been spared of the blood and guts that coated her like a second skin.  

“Herds…comin’,” she murmured as her eyes closed, “Stay out of…tha’ woods. People…”

Her breathing evened out and her body went limp in Daryl’s arms.

Glancing behind them, Daryl realized she’d been carrying Morgan’s unconscious form within a sleeping bag. He was completely covered in walker entrails, even more so than she, and Daryl’s eyes immediately zeroed in on the older man’s arm.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Daryl wheezed when he realized that Morgan’s arm  _ended_ directly below elbow; the stub wrapped in a blood soaked bandage.

“Dwight!” Daryl’s voice taking a gruffer tone in his rattled state.

“I’m here,” Dwight yelled behind him.

“Get him to tha’ doc,” Daryl glared over his shoulder.

Dwight, along with a few other men, wasted no time lifting Morgan from the ground by the material of his makeshift cot. They began moving back to the gates as nimbly as possible without jostling the man too much in his fragile state.

“Get tha’ herders out here,” Daryl called after them, sweeping one arm beneath Beth’s knees and wrapping the other tightly under her arms, “There’s another herd.”

“Another one?” Dwight hissed ahead of him.

“Another one,” Daryl repeated gravely.

As soon as they were within the walls, Daryl shifted Beth in his arms, gripping her so tightly that he feared he would leave bruises on her skin. People with rifles were running past him, back towards the gates, and he could hear the pounding of hooves a few streets over. He spotted Rick, rushing up to Morgan as they carried him down the street, towards the doctor’s house. A moment later he was glancing back at Daryl and his eyes dropped to Beth’s unconscious form.

“What tha’ hell happened?” Rick’s voice was deep, almost a sneer.

“She passed out ‘fore she could tell me,” Daryl didn’t slow his pace as he spoke, “Said somethin’ about ‘people.’”

“She say anything ‘bout Maggie an’ Glenn?” Rick asked as he kept up with Daryl’s pace.

Daryl shook his head.

He had no idea what had happened to them, but a few things were evidently clear. Byron’s death was  _definitely_  not a suicide attempt. The first herd, as well as the one currently shambling toward them, had not found their way to Alexandria by accident. Someone had directed their path. Someone was targeting their community. However, it was Beth’s final statement before passing out that had told him everything he needed to know.

_There were people in the woods._

…

 **A/N:** In case anyone is confused, The Hilltop (run by Maggie and Glenn) and The Kingdom are both communities like Alexandria, though smaller.

So the reference to Maggie calling Hershel ‘baby’, as in using baby to replace his name when she’s talking to him, is a conversation I actually had with my 4 year old. The punk kept correcting me when I called him baby (in place of his name). *sigh* They grow up so fast…

Also, Hershel’s middle name,  **Everett** , is a shout out to TWD Games by Telltale (see  **Lee Everett**  from season 1). Morgan’s arm amputation is also a shout out to one of the possible outcomes Lee has on the game!

“He never gave up on me,” Beth stated, “Which is why I’ll never give up on him.” Yup…completely foreshadowing the end of this chapter! Just in case you missed the importance of that line!

Cooper is Australian. Love me some Aussie’s! : P Hopefully you could imagine the accent!

By the way, I am not a smoker. I’ve never smoked in my life…so being the detail freak that I am, I literally googled if anyone had a description of ‘how smoking makes you feel.’ Lol. I know everyone is different, some say it feels great and others say they hated it, but I read several people’s posts and went with the most common response. So if any of the details are inaccurate, sorry!

Annnndddd there you have it! I’ve been working towards this chapter for several chapters now! So excited for you guys to finally get here with me!! Totally twisting the comics here! You didn’t think things would get easier just because they have a safe place to live now did you?? I mean…it’s The Walking Dead universe we’re talking about here! : ) Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! It’s probably my fave so far! Leave me some love! XOXO


	8. Chapter 7

****Disclaimer:**  **A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

 **Thank you** Nicole for editing this chapter even though you have so much going on! 

 **A/N:** I know I have this story rated M, but I wanted to give an additional warning for this chapter. I will have some very graphic depictions of violence in this chapter. Just a little above my ‘normal’ walker gore!

…

Upon meeting Cooper at the stables, Beth had felt right at home the moment she got into her saddle. She had no recollection of horses before Alexandria, but there had been a sort of muscle memory that took over the moment she’d been handed the reins. Morgan hadn’t taken to riding quite as naturally as Beth, but he’d had experience with horses in his younger years and just needed a few moments to get reacquainted with the mechanics of maneuvering the animal. Once he’d been able to get the horse moving the direction he desired, he had given her a nod and they were on their way.

It was quiet, almost peaceful, as they rode through the woods. Beth was used to traveling in relative silence, but typically by this point, Morgan would have already broken down and started telling her some nonsense story, that she was never able to fully visualize, about a world where walkers didn’t roam the earth. For him to remain quiet for such a long time was unnerving.

“Whatcha’ thinkin’ about?” Beth inquired when the lack of conversation became too much for her to bear.

“Hmm?” Morgan hummed as he looked over at her, “Oh, nothin’. Jus’ something I heard when you and your sister were talkin’.”

Beth nodded, not wanting to pry if he wasn’t willing to discuss what was causing him distress.

“I had a brother,” Morgan began, his voice barely reaching her over the clicking of the horse’s heels along the rocky path, “He was a few years younger.”

“What happened to ‘em?” Beth pulled back on the reigns to slow her horse down to match Morgan’s leisurely pace.

“He moved to Richmond, when he found out his wife was havin’ twin’s,” he revealed as his horse rode alongside hers, “My nephew was around six years old at the time.”

Beth chewed on her bottom lip, recalling their short and disastrous trip through Virginia.

“Shirewilt Estates,” Beth said after a moment, “That’s why you wanted to go by there.”

Morgan nodded solemnly.

“But,” Beth furrowed her brows, “You still don’t know…”

“The gate was busted open and tha’ place was swarmin’ with walkers,” Morgan sighed, “I know what happened.”

“Maybe they got out?” Beth suggested earnestly.

“Maybe,” Morgan shrugged his shoulders, “But I’ve learned it’s bes’ not to wish for such things. It’s easier on the soul t’think they’re not out here sufferin’.”

Beth understood. She’d seen her fair share in the short amount of time she’d had to gain memories and very few of them hadn’t left some sort of mental or physical scar. Even so, a small part of her had hope that his brother and family managed to escape the fate of the Shirewilt Estates. 

“How old would your nephew be now?” She asked; reaching in her pouch for a bottle of water and offered it to him.

He accepted it with a smile and lifted the bottle to his lips, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket when he was done, “I s’pose Noah would be around your age now.”

She immediately recognized the name to be the same ‘Mr. Noah’ that Hershel had been referring to earlier and queried, “Think it’s the same person?”

“Could jus’ be a coincidence,” Morgan’s voice lilted while he spoke and gave her back the water bottle, “I’ll ask Rick about ‘em when we get back.”

Knowing the conversation was over, Beth nodded and took the bottle from him and stuffed it back into the leather pouch attached to her saddle.

They continued riding in silence, but the tension that she had felt from Morgan seemed to have drained away after their conversation. The birds chirped, the clicking of the horse’s heels against the rocks persisted in a rhythmic pattern, and the cool breeze detached the last remaining leaves still clinging to their tree limbs. In that moment, as organic flakes of red, yellow, and orange floated to the ground, Beth was overwhelmed by the same sense of ease she’d experienced in Daryl’s deer stand.

“Is this what it was like?” She asked quietly, afraid her voice would shatter the moment, “ _Before?_ ”

“Well,” Morgan exhaled, exaggerating the word, “It felt a lot like this sometimes. We still got that lingerin’ worry that walkers are nearby though. We never had that  _before_.”

Beth sat straighter in her saddle, as if just mentioning the abominations that plagued the world summoned them from the regions the trees hid from their view.

“I remember,” Morgan let out a breathy chuckle as he reminisced, “A few summers ago, Duane an’ I, we were at this park. It was the same park we always went to, but the weather was nice, kinda’ like this, and there were all these… _people_  there. They were everywhere.”

Beth looked over at him when he pulled his horse to a stop, doing the same a moment later, and waited for him to continue.

“We were complainin' about how crowded it was and that we couldn’t do the things we normally did because people were in 'our' spot. Instead ‘ah tryin’ to make the best of it, we jus’ turned around and left. That was tha’ last time I ever took my son t’the park.”

His knuckles were white from where he held onto the reigns and the slight quiver in his voice pulled at her heartstrings. Turning her eyes, giving him what little privacy she could, Beth scanned their surroundings once more.

“What I wouldn’t give to be able to go back to that moment and enjoy that day...,” he sighed loud enough for her to hear.

“You think it’ll ever be like that again?” Beth asked letting her gaze return to him.

“No,” he looked up at the sky that was visible through the barren tree limbs, “it’ll never be like  _that_  again, but someday...it may be close.”

She knew he was referring to the fact that things would never be the same for  _him_  because Duane was dead. His wife was dead. In his mind,  _everyone_  he knew and loved was dead. Morgan’s whole world had been destroyed by the apocalypse…just like it had destroyed her. She had no happy memories to return to, no wishes left unfilled, and no loved ones to miss. It was both a blessing and a curse.

She’d had a life  _before_ , but whatever had happened all those years ago had stripped her of everything that had made her who she had once been. Realizing how dark her thoughts had turned, and that fretting over things she couldn’t control would get her nowhere, she decided to try and lighten the mood.

“I dunno’ if I’d fit in very well,” Beth laughed breathily.

“I’d look after ya’,” Morgan immediately replied, still staring up at the sky, “There are lots of other people who’ll make sure you’re taken care of now too.”

Beth was about to reply when a gunshot sounded.

Morgan immediately snapped to attention and both of them frantically searched for who could have fired a rifle or if there were any walkers nearby to hear it.

Feeling a warm sensation pooling on her leg, Beth glanced down, releasing her reigns with one hand to press it against her side.

“Beth?” Morgan’s concerned voice reached her ears.

Pulling her hand back, it was covered in a sticky, crimson liquid.

“Oh my God,” Morgan began untangling himself from his saddle when another gunshot was fired.

Just as Morgan’s fee hit the ground, his horse dropped dead beside him. Beth’s horse reared back on its hind legs from the commotion and she reached for the saddle horn with her blood covered hand. She tried to hold on, but found herself slipping, crashing to the ground on her back while her horse took off into the trees behind them.

For a moment, she was disoriented; her eyes refused to focus and the machete strapped to her back forced her to lie at an awkward angle.

Morgan was at her side when her eyes slowly began making out the details around them. She could feel him tugging on something, suddenly being able to lie flat on her back, and then he rushed to his saddlebag and returned with a bundle of white and his knife in hand. Unbuttoning her flannel shirt enough to reveal her abdomen, he covered the entrance wound with a bandage.

“It’s a through and through,” he murmured while gently turning her on her side and placing another adhesive bandage on her back.

“Cauterize it,” Beth said while trying to sit up.

“The lighter was in your pack,” Morgan pushed her back down and glanced in the direction her horse had disappeared.

“Just wrap it up,” Beth huffed and swatted his hand away as she pushed herself up into a sitting position, “We’ve got to get back.”

Morgan glanced down at her bandaged side before nodding. He quickly removed his tan scarf from around his neck and tied it tightly, over the bandages, around her waist.

“It doesn’t hurt,” she placed her hand on his shaky one still securing the knot around her, “I can’t feel it. ‘Member?”

“It’s  _because_ you can’t feel it that I’m worried,” Morgan said gravely, “You could have ‘ah ruptured organ or blood vessels. Not to mention ‘ah concussion.”

“I’m fine,” she tried to argue as he shrugged off his jacket and handed it to her.

“Wear it,” he requested as she pulled her arms through the sleeves, “You’re gonna’ lose more blood and you’ve gotta’ keep in your body heat.

“Let’s just get-”

Groaning in the distance silenced her mid-sentence and they both froze.

When the guttural sound was heard again, Morgan hurdled over his dead horse, using his machete to slice open the animal’s stomach, and ripped the saddlebags away from the ties that held them in place. The sound of the horse's innards falling onto the ground was deafening in the silence that now surrounded them. The birds had all flown away after the first gunshot, the air felt like it had dropped several degrees, and the empty limbs above them appeared more ominous than they had before.

“That oughta’ keep ‘em busy for a while,” Morgan whispered, tugging her to her feet, and giving her the bandolier he had taken off of her a moment ago, “Let’s go.”

Beth nodded and then they began running.

…

A branch slapped her across the face and she knew it had broken the skin, but she kept running. Morgan was leading the way, machete in hand, as she instinctively rolled up the sleeve to Morgan’s jacket and strapped hers to her arm. She knew her forearm wasn’t healed, and without the padding she had intended to have Daryl install onto the brace, any fighting she did would only do further damage to her battered limb.  Then again, if they didn’t make it out of the woods, it wouldn’t matter if her injury worsened or not.

Morgan’s arm flew into the air, elbow bent upwards and hand in a fist, signally for her to stop. Groaning and shambled steps surrounded them, but in the distance, she could hear an anguished ‘neighing.’

“Tha’ horse?” Beth dared to whisper.

Morgan nodded.

Beth remained crouched, looking around them and catching glimpses of walkers clumsily staggering towards the sounds of her horse.

“If we can reach it before they do, we can get back faster,” Morgan suggested quietly.

“You think its worth ‘ah shot?” Beth inquired skeptically.

“I think it’s our  _only_  shot,” Morgan stated firmly, glancing down at her side.

Beth followed the direction of his eyes and noticed that his tan scarf was quickly turning to a shade of crimson. She was beginning to have trouble breathing and she knew it had nothing to do with the amount of running they had been doing. Though the wound didn’t hinder her physically, her body still suffered from the effects of her blood loss.

“Where you go…I go,” Beth looked up determinedly.

Morgan met her gaze, pressing his lips into a thin line, and held up two fresh bandages, “These are the last ones.”

They’d already stopped once to replace her first set of bandages when Morgan saw a tiny spot of red seeping into the material around her waist.

“Let’s hope they last,” Beth murmured, fumbling with the knot tied tightly over her wound.

“Lemme’ see it,” Morgan reached out and made quick work of the crude tourniquet.

Beth kept watch while he removed the drenched bandages, quickly covering the seeping wounds, and retying the scarf around her abdomen.

“You stay with me, don’t fall more than two paces behind, and don’t fight ‘em unless you have to,” he dictated sternly.

Beth nodded and began following behind him.

They ran alongside the herd, making good progress, until Beth started stumbling. Morgan hadn’t seen her initially, but this time, she knew she’d been caught. She’s lost so much blood, her vision was beginning to blur, and the thundering in her ears was becoming too loud to hear any other noises around her.

Tugging on the ankle she’d snagged on some foliage, she crashed onto her hands and knees, and felt pressure against her palms. Lifting her hands away from the thorny vines, tiny droplets of blood began sprouting from the seemingly invisible wounds. Strong hands grabbed her biceps and lifted her to her feet.

“Not much further,” Morgan tried to sound comforting, but his eyes expressed his distress.    

She tried to force her feet to move, but they were heavy and she swayed involuntarily with each step. Morgan, discerning her struggle to walk, draped her arm across his shoulders and began dragging her beside him.  

They were moving again and Beth tried to focus on the trees to their right where the herd was located. They had made it roughly five feet when she realized the walkers were no longer interested in the distraught sounds emanating from the animal they were trying to reach and instead had turned their attention onto the both of them.

“Morgan,” she hissed.

“I see ‘em,” he replied curtly.

“I’m slowing you down,” she admitted bitterly.

Morgan kept pressing forward.

“They’re going to catch us,” she stated the obvious.

Morgan tightened his grip and moved through the trees.

“If you let me go, you can make it,” she tried again.

Morgan ignored her.

“Damnit Morgan,” she cursed.

“I am  _not_  leavin’ you behind,” he glared down at her, “We been in stickier situations than this.”

She knew it was a lie.

“We always manage to fight our way through,” his chest was heaving and his shirt was damp with perspiration, “Where I go, you go, right?”

Beth felt her lips turning upwards despite their predicament.

“I’ve never given’ up on you and it ain’t startin’ today,” he finished resolutely.

“Stubborn ole’ man,” Beth muttered under her breath, but she knew he’d heard her from the smirk on his face.

Turning her head in time to see a walker lunge at them, Beth felt a surge of adrenaline flood her system, giving her the strength to shove Morgan forward. The corpse fell to the ground where they had been standing, reaching with its cold, boney fingers out toward them. Morgan removed her arm from his shoulder and made quick work of the undead creature on the ground.

“There’s more,” Beth hollered as she gracelessly swung her arm and imbedded the blade into the skull of an oncoming corpse as Morgan handled two others.

The walker crumpled to the ground, taking Beth along with it. More monstrosities were coming her way and they seemed to be completely ignoring Morgan a few feet away from her. Glancing down at her side, she understood their attraction to her straightaway; her gunshot wound.

“Beth,” Morgan’s voice sounded higher in his panicked state.

Yanking with more force, Beth pulled her blade free and fell backwards from the momentum.

“They can smell it,” Beth yelled, shoving her machete upwards through decayed nasal cavity of a walker looming over her, “They can smell my blood.”

Morgan quickly closed the distance between them, standing beside her protectively, “We’ve gotta’ run for it.”

“You know I won’t make it,” she got to her feet and darted her eyes over the dozen or so walkers intent on devouring her.

“Stay behind me,” Morgan moved in front of her, “I’ll take care of ‘em.”

“There’s too many for you by yourself!” She hollered as Morgan stepped forward.

He finished the first walker in a single swipe of his sword. The next corpse took them both by surprise as it moved quicker than any walker they’d come across. The skin of its face looked as if it had been dead for years, but it still had too much meat on its bones and was far too agile to be dead more than a few hours. She tracked its movement and each time Morgan swung, it stepped back out of range. Creeping around behind them, Beth tried to get into a position where she could help, but froze when she heard  _it_.

 _Whispers_.

She wasn’t sure if she was hallucinating from blood loss or the walkers were actually  _whispering_. Focusing all of her attention on what they were chanting, she couldn’t quite make out the words at first. However, soon the sounds were no longer chaotic jargon and became a coherent phrase. Her blood ran cold as the words were reiterated over and over again. 

“Morgan,” Beth hissed, “Morgan! That’s ‘ah…”

Morgan swung again, quicker this time, and sliced the walker across the forehead. A thin layer of decayed skin flew away to reveal… _another_  forehead. The skin of this one was smooth, young, and belonged to someone who was still very much  _alive_. Red blood splattered across the trunks of the trees and Morgan looked down at his blade.

“Christ,” his eyes widened and flew over to Beth.

“We have to run!” She screamed.

It didn’t matter if she knew she wouldn’t make it far. If  _they_  were amongst the horde, she and Morgan wouldn’t stand a chance anyway. They had to at least  _try_  to get away.

“Behind you!” Morgan hollered back.

Beth didn’t have time to turn around before she was shoved to the ground. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned her face to the side just as it made contact with the cool dirt and her breath was forced from her lungs upon impact. She could hear death moaning in her ear and knew her fight was over. She waited for the bite, but it never came. A split second later, the weight was off of her and she opened her eyes to see Morgan standing next to her.

“Ya’ alright?” He asked, breathing hard and face twisted in an expression she didn’t understand.

“Yeah,” she breathed and pushed herself off the ground, “‘M fine.”

Then she saw the red staining his sleeve, the way he was cradling his arm, and the world gave way under her feet.

“No…no, no, no, no,  _no_ ,” she hovered over his forearm.

“We gotta’ move Beth,” he insisted, his voice strained while he tried to hide the extent of his wound from her eyes.

“You were bit,” she barely whispered, completely ignoring the danger they were still in, “Morgan…you were  _bit_!”

Grabbing her wrist with the hand of his uninjured arm, he pulled her behind him.

Beth was on autopilot. She could feel her feet moving, but had no recollection of commanding them to do so. All she could see was the hole that had been gouged out of Morgan’s arm. Blood was still pouring from his wound, even more so than when she’d been shot, and she knew he would bleed out before they got to safety if they didn’t do something. The fog of despair quickly faded and with a new sense of clarity, she yanked her arm free of Morgan’s hold.

She didn’t wait for him to catch up with her plan as she quickly untied the knot around her waist and removed the blood soaked bandages. Throwing them as far as she could, hoping the scent would mask that of Morgan’s wound and provide some sort of distraction, she turned back to him and began using the scarf to make a tourniquet around his upper arm. It wouldn’t stop the bleeding, but it would hopefully slow it down enough that she could get them to the horse. When she finished tying the knot, she scurried up to the nearest walker and swiftly ended it. She then grabbed the twice dead body, her fingers sinking into the decomposed flesh, and held securely around both the radius and ulna in each of its arms. As she dragged the body over to Morgan, one of its legs caught on an upturned root and was torn away from its pelvis. Plopping it on the ground in front of her injured companion, she knelt down and sliced open its stomach.

“Cover yourself,” she ordered, moving to stand guard and allow him the time he needed to camouflage his body.

Morgan collapsed to his knees and she knew she’d have to help him stand back up.

She kept her head on a swivel and waited for Morgan to finish. Hearing a shuffling behind her, assuming he was done, she glanced over her shoulder and saw that he had fallen onto his side. His eyes were glassy and his breathing was coming out his shallow puffs.

“No,” she seethed and rushed to his side, “Morgan…Morgan you gotta’ stay with me.”

“Leave me be,” he whispered.

“I am  _not_  leavin’ you,” she ground out, shoving her hands in into the abdominal cavity of the corpse and finishing the job she’d instructed him to do.

When Morgan was covered beyond what was probably necessary, she made quick work to mask her own scent.

Morgan’s eyes were closed when she finished, the rise and fall of his chest the only indication he was still alive, and she knew she was losing him.

“Morgan,” she patted his cheek, “Morgan, get up.”

His eyes fluttered open, but he didn’t move.

“Morgan!” She sneered, “ _Get up_.”

“Go Beth. I’m done,” he breathed, “Just…go…”

Beth stood and grabbed his uninjured arm. Pulling him into a sitting position, his head lolling every time she moved him, she wrapped his arm around her shoulder and tried to stand.

“Where you go, I go,” she groaned from exertion, “You’ve never given up on me. Not once. I’ll be damned if I give up on you.”

Morgan’s eyes opened languidly.

“We’ve been in stickier situations than this right?” She repeated his lie.

Morgan let out a strangled laugh, “Stubborn girl.”

“I learned from tha’ best,” she retorted, helping him stand, “Now move your feet.”

They began moving, Beth having to hold both of their weight, but there was no way she was  _ever_  going to leave him behind. They were  _family_. All they had was each other. She wasn’t willing to let that go.

…

She could have cried when she finally saw her horse. It would have been tears of joy if not for the walker feasting on its font, right leg.

“Damnit,” she cursed.

The horse reared back and its hoof struck the walker on the shoulder, knocking it to the ground. From the looks for corpses lying, unmoving, around it, this had been the first of many it had managed to trample.

Sitting Morgan against a tree and unstrapping her machete from her arm, hooking it back on her bandolier, she cautiously approached the animal.

“Hey there,” she tried to sound soothing as the horse reared back in its hind legs once more, “It’s okay…it’s okay.”

Reaching a hand out, the horse stomped its hooves on the ground, snorting through its nostrils. Its tail swished from side to side and it was clear the animal was agitated.

“I’m here to help,” she spoke softly as her hand came in contact with the soft, warm flesh of its muzzle.

Stroking it gently, she reached around to pat its neck and the horse nuzzled its head into her shoulder.

“I’m just gonna’ get you loose, alright?” She offered, reaching for the reigns that had gotten stuck in the branches of the tree that had kept it from escaping the woods.

When she had untangled the reigns, she led it away from the tree, noticing the significant limp in its gait. The groans of the herd were growing louder and it would only be a few minutes before they were immersed in walkers once more.

Working quickly she removed the saddlebags, sleeping bag, and saddle from the horse. Digging in her bags, she found the lighter and pulled her shirt aside. Rolling her thumb over the wheel a few times, she finally managed to produce a flame. Reaching for the knife Daryl had given her, she held the blade over the flame until she was sure it was hot enough to accomplish what she needed. This was one of those moments, as blade melted the skin around her wound, leaving behind an angry, black mark where her bullet wound had once been, that she was thankful she couldn’t feel the pain that was undoubtedly present. Returning the blade to the flame, she performed the task on the exit wound.

She could see the herd now, hear their groaning, but she still hadn’t taken care of Morgan. She had to attend to his arm or she would end up losing him to blood loss, or worse, the virus. She knew what she  _needed_  to do, but the screams he would undisputedly make would attract the undead. She then glanced at the horse, favoring one of its legs, and discerned that the animal would never make it back. She didn’t know how the virus affected animals, or if it did at all, but she knew putting it out of its misery would be a swifter death than if the walkers got ahold of it and ate it alive.

“I’ll be right back,” she whispered to Morgan, who was barely conscious against the tree.

Leading the horse away, walking at a slow pace, she tugged the reigns towards the ground. Coaxing the animal to lie down took a few moments, but when it had finally settled against the dirt, she detached her machete and slid her arm into the brace. Glancing back to make sure Morgan was still safe, she took a deep breath.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered down to the animal, staring at her with large, trusting eyes, “but I’m doin’ you ‘ah favor.”

Pressing her blade against the horse’s jugular vein, she neatly sliced through its skin. The animal flailed for a moment, releasing a noise that shattered her heart as she soothed it with a soft ‘thank you’ and tender strokes. When it stopped breathing, she copied Morgan, slicing open its stomach and cleaned the blade as best she could against its fur. She then raced back to her companion, still leaning against the tree.

Pulling him away from the trunk, mindful of the weapon attached to her arm, she laid him flat on his back and extended his wounded appendage away from his body. Checking to make sure the tourniquet was still tight, she closed her eyes.

“You can do this Beth,” she told herself, “You  _have_  to do this.”

Opening her eyes, determination and adrenaline flooding her system, she grasped the brace of her machete with her other hand and raised it above her head. She had to do this in one go, for Morgan’s sake as much as her own. Looking over her shoulder, seeing the dead feasting on the remains of her horse, Beth clenched her jaw. A few of the corpses were standing too straight, watching her, and she knew they were different from the rest of the herd.

“Stay with me,” she whispered, turning her attention back to Morgan, “I’ll get us outta’ this if you just stay with me.”

And then she swung.

…

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been walking, dragging Morgan in her makeshift stretcher, but she could feel herself getting close to their destination. The trees were beginning to thin out and the sun was shining brighter, signally it was well into the afternoon.

She was exhausted, her eyes kept blurring, and she wasn’t sure how much longer her body would continue to cooperate with her. She’d never lasted this long without malfunctioning before, but it didn’t matter. If she fell, she would get back up and keep going as soon as her body would let her.

Adjusting the rope digging into her shoulder that she’d used to wrap around Morgan’s torso as she dragged him behind her in her sleeping bag, Beth was never more relived to see the walls of Alexandria come into view.

“We made it,” she cried to Morgan’s unconscious form, “Morgan… _we made it_.”

She heard her name being called while stumbling over a clump of dead grass and tried to concentrate who was approaching them. She then heard other voices and made out the unclear image of a man running through the clearing, shouting her name once more. She had to duck her head for a moment, the rays of the sun too much for her sensitive eyes, but she forced herself to shout a reply.

“Daryl?” Her voice broke as she said his name.

She blinked several times, before looking back up at him, a smile threatening to erupt on her lips. Never in her life, or what she’d experienced thus far, had she been happier to see another human being.

“What happened?” He yelled, quickly closing the distance between them.

Tears of relief spilled from her eyes and she finally let her body give out, flinging herself into his arms as he caught her easily. She could feel his cool hands brushing away the matted hair from her face and she breathed in his scent; pine and oil.

“Herds…comin’,” she murmured as she closed her eyes, “Stay out of…tha’ woods. People…”

She couldn’t hold on any longer. She’d used every ounce of strength she had to get them back. They weren’t in one piece, but they were alive…for the moment at least. Morgan was strong, the strongest man she knew, and if he didn’t pull through this…she wasn’t sure she could survive losing him. However, the safety she felt from Daryl’s strong arms, wrapped around her protectively, was enough for her to give into her exhaustion. She took another deep, calming breath and let sleep claim her.

_They’d made it home._

…

 **A/N:**  So I don’t usually write ‘what happened’ chapters and leave the mystery to be discovered as the characters reveal them in the story, but I felt Morgan deserved a bit of the spotlight and the events that happened while they were out is pretty important for understanding the next chapter.

The estate that Beth refers to at the beginning of the chapter is straight out of the show. About eleven minutes into episode 5x09 you see Glenn looking through the bushes for snipers. There’s a stone entrance sign that says  _Shirewilt Estates_  when they’re taking Noah home.

Just FYI, if one (or more) of a horse’s leg is injure with enough severity, the horse is put down. Horses need all four legs. Favoring one causes irreparable damage to the other three and  _minor_ leg injuries can take up to a year to fully heal. In such cases, horses with severe leg injuries are put down as its more humane then letting them suffer. Horses are resilient creatures, but even they have an Achilles heel.

I’ve got a funny story…kind of. I’m not sure if I should be disturbed by this or thinks it’s really cool, but I was SO proud of myself for coming up with my own original ‘bad guys.’ I had told people I’d made my own ‘animals’ in reviews responses, created a backstory, a name, and everything! Then, as I was doing research, and emailing a fellow author (Sarakaroline8), I find out that Robert Kirkman has introduced a very similar ‘baddie’ in the recent chapters of his comics!!!! I was SOOOOO bummed. So for all of you I told that I had created my own bad guys…I  _did_ , but I’m just going blend the two and keep my twists. I’m not going to elaborate on anything yet because more will be revealed about these guys in the next chapter, but I’ve dropped some major hints as to what they’re about if you caught them!     


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:**  A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

 **Thank you Nicole** for working your wonderful magic on this chapter!

 **A/N:** Barbara is referred to in chapter 3 (Rick's girlfriend…since Andrea is dead in the show).

...

Daryl burst through the doors of the med bay, gently lying Beth on the nearest cot while the doctor rushed around Morgan's bedside as soon as Dwight and his crew were out of the way. The world seemed to blur around him as the few nurses they had rushed about the room. The doctor on duty, Dr. Hudson, began barking out orders and Daryl felt a hand on his arm trying to gently escort him away from Beth's prone form. He jerked out of their grasp on instinct before he recognized the blonde standing in front of him.

"Daryl," Barbara breathed cautiously, reaching for his arm once more.

"I ain't leavin'," Daryl growled.

"You know that visitor's aren't allowed inside the med bay," the older blonde began, "We have to give them each a thorough examination, but you have to give us room to do so properly."

Daryl glanced between Barbara's dark, brown eyes and Beth's unconscious figure.

"You take care 'ah her," Daryl hissed, furrowing his brows and leaning forward into Barbara's personal space before adding, "Of both of 'em."

He knew Rick probably wouldn't appreciate him being so crass with his girlfriend, but at the moment, Daryl didn't care. Morgan was missing the lower half of his arm and Beth…he didn't even know what sort of injuries she may have sustained during the time they had been outside the walls.

"I promise I will do absolutely everything within my power to aid them," Barbara met his glare evenly, "Now shoo. Quicker you're outta' here, the quicker I can get to work checking her vitals."

Daryl took in Beth's form once more before he turned on his heel, exiting through the same doors he'd entered. As soon as he was out of the building, he marched in the direction Dwight had rushed off to after they had deposited Morgan on a vacant cot. If another herd was coming, they needed everyone they could spare along the south wall.

…

Daryl released the clip from his gun and reloaded it, pulling back the lever, and took aim at a walker coming into the clearing. They'd been there, knocking down one walker after another, for the past few hours. It didn't matter where anyone shot; as long as they aimed high enough they were bound to hit a walker in the head. It had been overwhelming at first, but once everyone focused their attention to defending the south wall, they slowly began making a dent in the massive number of dead bodies coming at them. What had once been a green pasture was now an ocean of twice dead corpses. As he was looking through his scope, he noticed a few walkers lingering in the woods, peering around the trunks of the larger trees.

"Dwight," he yelled, keeping his eyes trained on the walker in his sights.

"Yeah?" Dwight hollered after taking out another undead.

"Look in tha' woods, 'bout two o'clock," Daryl announced, giving him the general location he was focused on.

"What tha' hell?" Dwight hissed, adjusting his rifle on his shoulder.

"Sasha," Daryl called to his left, "You seein' this shit?"

"I've counted four of 'em out there so far," Sasha answered as she pulled the trigger.

"What d'you think their doin'?" Dwight questioned somberly.

"Whatever it is…it ain't good," Daryl replied when the walker moved behind the tree and out of his view.

"Beth said there were  _people_  in tha' woods, right?" Dwight asked next to him.

"They looked like walkers t'me," Sasha hollered over the sound of gunshots.

"Somethin' don't feel right," Daryl replied and shook his head, "She said there was people, but  _they_  didn't look like  _people_."

"Smart walkers?" Dwight looked up from his scope, "If they start learnin' to climb walls and opens doors… we are royally  _fucked_."

Daryl scanned the woods once more, unable to see anything but trees and shrubbery. He then stood from his hunched position and turned his attention to the overgrowth that clung to the walls.

"Dwight," Daryl waited until he had the man's full attention, "Get a few of tha' guys and start cuttin' down the vines. If there are people out there, that'd be an easy way t'climb the wall."

Dwight nodded, "You got it boss."

"Sasha," he turned to their resident sniper, "Don't let anyone out t'clear the bodies. We don't know what's goin' on out there."

"I'll keep a look out up here for a while," Sasha declared, never removing her eyes from the scope of her gun.

"You see anything, you send for me," Daryl requested firmly.

"Sure thing," Sasha replied and gave him a quick smile.

With Dwight busy fulfilling his request, Daryl turned back to the woods. He couldn't help feeling like there was someone out there, waiting, and watching their every move. There were only a few walkers left to pick off, but the massive amount of dead bodies scattered about the clearing was unsettling. They hadn't had a herd this big since the battle with Negan when the walls fell. Climbing down from the walkway along the top of the walls, he took a moment to settle his gaze on the community they had built.

No one seemed phased by the fact that the guards had just killed a seemingly infinite amount of walkers right outside their walls. Everyone was going about their business without a care in the world. There were women walking down the street, holding their children's hand, without so much as a knife to use to defend themselves. There were so many people living within their walls now that Daryl didn't recognize every face or know every name. The people of Alexandria had become complacent; weak. They were dependent upon Daryl, Dwight, Sasha, Rick, and everyone else to keep them safe.

Slowly ambling away from the wall, Daryl had one thought plaguing him. If there were people in the woods, attacking their patrols, how did they know where and when their people were going to be there? Have they been watching them long enough to know their routine? Or was there something more going on?

Suddenly, Alexandria didn't feel as secure as it had when he woke up that morning.

…

Pushing through the double doors to the medical facility, Daryl spotted Rick talking with Barbara in the lobby. Approaching the two, he felt a twinge of guilt for how he'd lashed out at the older blonde earlier in the med bay, but Barbara's welcoming smile told him that she felt no ill will towards his outburst.

"How is she?" Daryl asked Barbara as soon as he was standing in front of them.

"She's sleeping, but she'll be alright," Barbara answered with a smile.

His lips tilted ever so slightly, but fell as soon as he looked at Rick and remembered the importance of what he was about to discuss with their leader.

"Walkers taken care of?" Rick inquired, getting straight to business.

Daryl nodded, "Ate into 'ah couple dozen of boxes of ammunition, but we got 'em all."

"I'll get Eugene and his men workin' on makin' more," Rick answered and then asked, "How many you think there were?"

"If I's guessin?" Daryl tilted his chin up in thought, "I'd say at least 'ah thousand. Probably more. It was like shootin' fish in 'ah barrel."

"That's the biggest herd we've had in three years," Rick ran a hand through his curly hair.

"No shit," Daryl huffed, "but there's somethin' else."

Rick furrowed his brows expectantly.

"Few of tha' walkers," Daryl bit at his lower lip, "they stayed behind in tha' woods."

"What's so strange 'bout that?" Barbara inquired innocently.

"They were usin' the trees for cover," Daryl explained, "I even caught one of them peerin' around the tree; watchin' us."

"You're sure?" Rick's tone dropped several octaves.

"As sure as a squirrel's shit is nutty," Daryl replied gravely.

Rick ran a hand down his face.

"So were they actually walkers?" Barbara seemed to grasp the severity of Daryl's claim.

"They looked it," Daryl pressed his lips into a thin line, "I honestly have no idea what it was we saw. Jus' know whatever it is…it's not good for us."

"No. No it's not," Rick said as he tightened his jaw and squinted his eyes towards the double doors, "I'll get Dwight to keep four men on the walls at all times, 'til we get this sorted out."

Daryl nodded in agreement, "Sasha's keepin' watch at the moment. I told her not t'let anyone out to clear the bodies."

"Good call," Rick murmured and crossed his arms over his chest, still gazing towards the doors, "I'm gonna' get on the radio. Maggie said they didn't have any problems makin' it home, but if we got walkers actin' smart, they need to be on their guard. I'll see if I can get through to Ezekiel too. The Kingdom's been on radio silence the past few days."

"I'm worried about them," Barbara added softly, "It's not like Ezekiel or Michonne to not touch base with us for so long."

"Think somethin' happened?" Daryl inquired swiftly.

Rick tilted his head to the side for a moment before turning his gaze back to Daryl, "I dunno', but I intend t'find out."

There were voices coming from the med bay, immediately catching Daryl's attention, as his head whipped towards the door.

"Go ahead," Rick patted him on the shoulder, "You've done your part. I'll take care 'ah the rest."

Daryl glanced back at Rick, nodding a few times, before acknowledging Barbara and walking through the door into the exam room.

Upon entering the room, he immediately found Beth. She'd been cleaned up, now wearing a fresh set of clothes, and looked much more alive than when she'd collapsed in his arms covered in walker blood. His eyes were drawn to her right wrist, covered in a tan colored bandage, and felt a wave of déjà vu. Three years ago, when he'd finally managed to reunite with her at Grady Memorial, she'd had a cast on her arm. He remembered wondering what had happened to her, as he gripped her shoulder and pulled her to safety, but he never had the chance to ask her. She'd been taken from him before he had the chance to even  _say_ anything to her. Lost in thought, he absently let his fingers run across the course material, jerking back as if he'd been burned when the rough fabric turned into the soft, warm skin of her fingers. Holding his breath, waiting to see if he'd disturbed her, Daryl took a step back when Beth continued slumbering unperturbed.

Scanning the room, he then noticed the curtains were drawn around the cot where Dwight and his men had laid Morgan. Walking over to the white cloth, his heart hammering in his chest, he pulled the material back far enough to see the man sleeping soundly in his cot. Heaving a sigh of relief, he let the curtain fall back into place. Daryl looked around for Dr. Hudson, but failed to see the younger, black man anywhere in the room. Noticing a light on in one of the back offices, he let his eyes drift back to Beth, taking in the steady rise and fall of her chest, and then moved to the back of the room and rapped his knuckles against the cold, steel door.

"It's open," a male voice answered from within.

Daryl opened the door and found the man he he'd been looking for.

"Mr. Dixon," Dr. Hudson greeted him in a welcoming tone, "How can I help you?"

"Hey doc," Daryl replied, ignoring the formality, "I's just comin' to check on Beth and Morgan."

"Ah, yes," Dr. Hudson replied, standing from his chair, "Their charts are in here."

Daryl moved aside to allow the doctor through the doorway and followed him back into the exam room. He hadn't had much to do with the young doctor, only seeing him a few times when he'd been injured severely enough to justify needing treatment, but held the man in high regard. When Rick had taken over after the war with Negan had been won, they'd gone through the files for the all residents, getting familiar with names and faces and what each resident had to offer.

Daryl had read that Grant Hudson had been in his second year of medical school at John Hopkins University when the outbreak occurred. He and his roommate had been evacuated to a safe zone, but when the military never returned and they began running out of food, he and his friend decided to try to make it back to Florida to reunite with Hudson's family. A few months into the apocalypse, after his roommate had been devoured by the dead, he'd come across the Alexandria Safe Zone. He'd decided to stay, knowing firsthand how dangerous the world had become and that he would never make it home on his own, and was immediately put to use finishing his education under the other residing doctors. Runners had attempted to find his family, to escort them to Alexandria, but there hadn't even been enough left of his family to bring back for a proper burial. Just like so many others, he'd lost everything to the apocalypse.

"Let's see," Dr. Hudson picked up Beth's chart from the end of her bed and began flipping through the pages, "Carpal sprain to her right wrist, penetrating abdominal trauma to her lower, left side via gunshot wound-"

"She was  _shot_?" Daryl hissed.

"It was a through and through from what we could tell on the x-rays," Dr. Hudson answered, looking up from reading the chart, "There wasn't any damage to her major organs and she should have bled out, but from the looks of the burned tissue on her abdomen, they managed to cauterize the wound."

Daryl grit is teeth together.

"She also has some superficial wounds to the arms and face. We had to give her a blood transfusion, using Type O since we weren't sure what her type is, but other than that she seems to be fine. Nothing life threatening as long as she doesn't get an infection," Dr. Hudson finished.

Daryl crossed his arms over his chest and worked his bottom lip between his teeth.

Beth had been shot. Someone out there, in the woods, had shot her and he had no idea where to even begin looking for them. There had been no way for him to distinguish if any of the blood on her actually belonged to her. She had been covered in drying blood, dirt, and debris from the woods, but she hadn't appeared to be in any pain. She'd been able to drag an unconscious Morgan, who was twice her size, and was completely exhausted, but in pain? Adrenaline was a factor, as Daryl had heard of people being able to do all sorts of superhuman things when the hormone rushed a person's system, but could it have lasted long enough for her to get them back to Alexandria from however far away they had been?

"She woke up asking for Morgan," Dr. Hudson's voice broke his thoughts, "and you."

"Me?" Daryl's eyes flashed up to the doctor, "What'd she say?"

"She was a bit frantic so we couldn't make out much. It just sounded like gibberish really," Dr. Hudson explained, "Something about people, but not people? We tried to get her to calm down, that she needed to lie still so we could finish our examination, but she just kept saying she had to speak with you. I had no choice but to give her a sedative so we could address her wounds. She should be waking up soon."

Daryl nodded and looked back to Beth.

"She's a fighter," Daryl could hear a hint of admiration in the doctor's voice, "She'd lost quite a bit of blood and though it's impossible to tell, I suspect she sustained her gunshot wound early on from the amount of inflation and blistering around the injury. The amount of fluid around her wrist suggests it was sprained prior to today's events."

"She never said nothin' about it," Daryl looked down to the blonde lying in the cot before them.

"The pain from her abdomen alone should have been debilitating. Yet, even with the severity of her wounds, she still managed to get herself and her friend back to the walls. Since we know that both of Morgan's limbs were attached upon departure, I can only assume he was bitten outside the walls, in which Beth amputated and cauterized his stub," the doctor continued his appraisal, "She saved his life. Most people, whose companion was in such a state as Morgan, would have just left them behind. It's comforting to know that there are still good people in the world."

"She is good," Daryl agreed, "always has been."

"Well, I'd better get back to filling out my reports," Dr. Hudson said after a moment, patting him on the shoulder as he went.

"Thanks doc," Daryl murmured, never taking his eyes off Beth.

"Oh, there was one thing I did find a bit odd," Dr. Hudson declared, turning back to Daryl, "When she woke up, Barbara asked her if she was in pain, and Beth said no. We offered her painkillers, but she vehemently refused to take them. She might have still had some adrenaline running through her system, numbing the pain, but she was adamant about us not giving her any pain medication."

"You give 'em to her anyway?" Daryl asked while looking over his shoulder at the younger man.

"No," the doctor shook his head, "She didn't appear to be in any sort of physical pain, despite everything, and I wasn't sure if she had an allergy. We'll check with her again when she wakes up and assess her condition."

Daryl nodded, but made no response.

Grabbing one of the plastic chairs lining the far wall, Daryl set it beside Beth's cot and took a seat. He glanced over at the sheet separating Morgan from the rest of the room and then turned back to Beth. She looked serene, as if she was just taking an afternoon nap, and not like a person who'd survived a trek through the woods after being shot and amputating her father-figures arm.

Beth was a sort of an enigma to him. She was so similar to the Beth he had grown close to at the mortuary and yet she carried this air of mystery about her. She had told him next to nothing about herself, other than how important Morgan was to her and some of what they'd been through, but she hadn't shared anything too personal. He knew Beth Greene's favorite color, song, most embarrassing moment, food, animal, and even when she'd had her first kiss. However, none of those applied to  _this_  Beth.

Adjusting in his seat, attempting to get comfortable, Daryl prepared to watch over Beth's sleeping form for as long as it took for her to wake up. He'd given her space, trying to let her adjust to life in Alexandria the same way he'd had to, but after seeing those walkers in the woods and talking to the doctor, that was no longer an option. He had questions and she was the only one who could answer them.

…

Beth's eyes fluttered open and she was immediately greeted with an unfamiliar ceiling. She blinked, trying to clear the grogginess still plaguing her, and ran her hands over a soft, textured material. Lifting her head, she recognized that she was in a bed and that her wrist was wrapped tightly with a bandage, but she had no recollection of climbing into the bed or wrapping her hand. Feeling a surge of unease, she bolted upright in her bed.

"Evenin' sleepyhead," a rough voice sounded next to her.

Whipping her head in the voice's direction, she was surprised to find Daryl to be sitting in a chair next to her bed.

"You shouldn't be sittin' up without support," Daryl stated while pressing the button on the side of her bed and lifting the mattress until it pressed against her back.

Beth's thoughts were still slow and she had a horrible taste in her mouth. Her throat was dry and she couldn't seem to get her voice to cooperate with her thoughts.

"Lemme' go get the doc," he stood from his chair and her eyes followed him languidly, "I'll be right back."

Nodding dumbly, she forced her eyes to focus on the set of wings that adorned his back.

Trying to gather her wits about her, she lifted her unbandage hand and ran her fingers up her forehead and into her hair, tossing it to the side haphazardly.

"Beth?" A younger black man that she didn't recognize called her name.

She didn't respond as her eyes slowly danced between the man dressed in a white coat and Daryl, who was reclaiming his seat next to her.

"I'm Doctor Hudson," the man extended his hand, "but you can call me Grant."

Beth remained still and furrowed her brows at his hand.

Clearing his throat, the doctor retracted his hand, "I'm the doctor overseeing your care today."

Beth opened her mouth as if to speak, her tongue feeling like sandpaper as she licked her lips, and she reached up to rub her throat.

"Here," Daryl offered her a glass of water.

Beth accepted it, taking a sip before greedily drinking the rest.

"The lethargy and dry mouth are side effects of the sedative you were given," Dr. Hudson announced, "They should wear off in time."

"Sedative?" Beth croaked hoarsely.

"Yes. Do you remember anything that happened to you?" The doctor inquired apprehensively.

Beth placed her hand on her side, feeling the protrusion of her bandage under her clothing, and her vision blurred as memories of the previous day came rushing back to her.

"It wasn't 'ah dream…," her voice came out steadier.

"I'm sorry?" Dr. Hudson said beside her.

"Morgan," her eyes shot up to Daryl as she began trying to scramble out of the bed, " _Where's_   _Morgan_?"

"He's fine," Daryl rose out of his chair and placed his hands on her shoulders, "He's sleepin' behind that curtain over there. He's  _fine_. I promise."

Beth exhaled shakily, tears prickling her eyes, and she buried her face in her hands.

"Doc," she heard Daryl say, "Can you give us 'ah minute?"

"Sure," Dr. Hudson responded, "I'll be in my office. Just come and get me when she's feeling up to a post examination."

Footsteps sounded and the moment she heard the door click shut, she let out a quiet sob.

Daryl's hands slid away from her shoulders and she felt the bed dip beside her. She felt hot tears slip from her eyes and pool into her palms. This would be about the time that Morgan would pat her back, maybe rub soothing circles if she was  _really_  upset, but he wasn't even  _conscious_  to know that she was crying. Another sob escaped her, louder this time, and she couldn't suppress the shuddering breath that shook her form afterwards.

She felt strong arms, the same strong arms that had caught her as she collapsed outside of the wall, gather her up and pull her close. She lowered her hands, fisting them in Daryl's flannel shirt, and cried into his shoulder. He didn't whisper soothing words or make empty promises; he just held her and let her cry. It was probably the most intimate position she'd ever been in with someone and she had never felt more comforted than in this moment. When her sobs turned into breathy hiccups and tears stopped pouring from her eyes, she pulled away, keeping her face hid from his view behind her hair.

"I got your shirt wet," she whispered.

"S'okay," he replied, "It needed 'ah wash."

She let out a watery laugh and wiped her cheeks with her fingertips.

"You gonna' be okay?" He asked cautiously.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded, and then lifted her head to meet his stare, "How big was tha' herd?"

"Biggest we've had in 'ah few years," Daryl admitted.

" _Shit_ ," Beth hissed, " _They_  brought them here."

"Who?" Daryl creased his brows together.

"You see any walkers actin' weird? Maybe they moved too quickly…or they didn't seem to flow with the rest of the herd?" Beth asked firmly.

"There were a few that hung towards the back of the herd, stayed in tha' woods. Even caught one of them peekin' around a tree, jus' watching us," Daryl answered without hesitation.

"What're they doin' so far from the river?" Beth murmured more to herself than him.

"Who are they?" Daryl reiterated his question.

"They call themselves The Whisperers," Beth replied quietly.

Daryl watched her as she leaned back on her mattress, "Are they people?"

"They used to be. Not anymore," she continued, "They're vicious, ruthless, an' you'll never know they're there until it's too late. They wear a walker's skin over their faces like a mask, dress in their clothes to cover their scent, and use tha' herds as a sort of camouflage. The dead are one of tha' biggest threats we face. If you turn into what is most feared, then you become the safest from them."

"That's some Leatherface shit right there," Daryl remarked, "And they were able to  _control_  'ah herd of walkers?"

"They don't control them…more like guide 'em," Beth clarified, "Walkers are attracted t'sound, smell even, but they just wander around aimlessly otherwise. With enough people dressed as corpses leading tha' way, the rest are bound t'follow."

"How tha' hell do you know so much about these assholes?" Daryl questioned incredulously.

Beth glanced over to the curtain drawn around where Daryl had said Morgan was sleeping. She knew that if he were awake, Morgan would be explaining everything, and he would expect her to do the same.

"About 'ah year ago, Morgan wanted t'make a trip through Virginia. We were slowly makin' our way to D.C. by that point and there was this community that he wanted t'check into. The gates were wide open when we got there and walkers had taken over tha' place," Beth summarized, leaving out details that weren't hers to share, "We kept goin' and eventually came across a camp. I stayed back while Morgan traded 'ah few things. When he had finished, we got back on tha' road, and he told me the man had warned him t'stay out away from the Port Royal area. Morgan said the man had told him there were 'walkers acting different' seen 'round there."

Daryl lifted one of his knees up onto the bed and rubbed his chin as he waited for her to continue.

"We should've listened," Beth looked down at her fingers, picking at her short, chipped nails distractedly, "Morgan thought the guy was either tryin' to set us up or he was paranoid. We'd handled more than our fair share 'ah walkers and Morgan said Port Royal wasn't much of 'ah town. Just a few restaurants and 'ah museum from what he could remember. He didn't think we'd have any problem skirtin' around tha' edge of town."

"What happened?" Daryl asked when she hesitated.

"Walkers were  _everywhere_. We had no problem avoidin' them at first. We stayed just outside of town, away from the larger masses an' took out the strays that brought attention to us. We were almost t'the river when we noticed a few of 'em were actin' strange. They looked too healthy for how decomposed their faces were, their stagger was too unnatural, and they were watchin' us. They actually  _saw_ us," Beth grit her teeth together, "It was just like that old man had said. They didn't move with tha' herd, they were agile, hidin' from view when we tried to get a good look at them, and they always stayed at a safe distance behind us. It didn't matter how quietly we walked, how quickly we moved, they jus' kept… _stalking_  us."

They sat in silence. Daryl stood from the bed and began pacing. Knowing he was still listening, Beth finished her story.

"It was when we were able t'finally see them up close, as they cornered us at tha' bridge, that we realized they were people. We were so busy watchin' the ones behind us; we never noticed the ones situatin' themselves in front of tha' bridge. We fought our way towards the riverbank and had t'swim across. I dunno' how many of _them_ we killed tryin' to get away, but not all the corpses we took down were undead. They may have looked like walkers, but they fought like people," Beth exhaled tiredly, "Morgan took 'ah machete to the side and my shoulder had been dislocated when they'd tried t'yank my brace off my arm. We had t'hold up in an apartment building outside of Fredericksburg so I could stitch up Morgan's side an' we could get some rest. We thought we'd left them behind, but a couple 'ah weeks later, three of them were killed in some of the traps I'd set in tha' building. We left that night, traveled around West Virginia for a while before we bumped into Alex and Anna and learned about Alexandria."

"You ever run into 'em after that?" Daryl inquired while pacing in front of her bed.

"Twice," Beth replied honestly, "We thought we'd lost them, but if they're here..."

"I need t'let Rick and Dwight know what's goin' on," Daryl stopped at the foot of her cot and placed his hands on the metal railing.

Beth nodded.

Her eyes felt dry from all the tears she'd shed and she was still groggy from the sedative, but that didn't stop her from worrying. If The Whisperers were at Alexandria, it was because she and Morgan had led them here.

"This ain't your fault Beth," Daryl said, leaning forward to meet her eye level, "They might've come this way eventually anyhow and we would've had t'deal with them regardless."

Beth nodded again, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth.

"There's one other thing," she breathed.

"Yeah?" Daryl repsonded.

"They whispered something t'me," she revealed steadily, "in tha' woods after I'd been shot."

"What'd they say?" Daryl questioned earnestly.

"They asked…," she exhaled slowly, "They asked if me an' Morgan had gotten their message. They said they left us a message…'hangin' in a tree.'"

"Son of 'ah  _bitch_ ," Daryl stood and rubbed a hand over his face.

"What?" Beth looked up at him, "Do you know what they meant?"

Daryl nodded and sighed, "We found Byron. The guy who patrolled tha' roads you two were coverin'."

"You found him?" Beth inquired and raised a brow expectantly.

"Yeah," Daryl placed his hands on his hips and stared at the floor, "We found him 'bout eight miles out…hangin' in 'ah tree."

"Then Byron's dead…because of us," Beth murmured.

"No," Daryl's head shot up, "Byron's dead because of  _them_."

Beth nodded, but she couldn't convince herself to believe him.

"We'll handle these guys," Daryl moved around the bed to stand beside her, "We've faced worse and came through alright."

Beth didn't reply. She had seen what The Whisperers were capable of and knew that Daryl and his group had never come across anything like them. They feared nothing. They wouldn't care of they had walls and guns because they had the dead to protect them. They only had so many bullets and the number of walkers roaming the earth increased every day.

"Can I ask you somethin'?" Daryl's question broke her thoughts.

"Sure," she replied while looking up at him.

"The doc said you didn't want them t'give you painkillers," Daryl stated, "Why?"

Beth ran her uninjured hand through her hair, pulling it around one of her shoulders, "Would've been a waste on me."

"Not if you're in pain," Daryl argued, "We may have limited supplies, but you got shot. If you need-"

"I'm not in pain," Beth cut him off, "I've never  _felt_  pain…not since I woke up three years ago."

Daryl furrowed his brows.

"It's not so bad," Beth shrugged her shoulders, "I may not be able to tell when I'm injured, but I've seen Morgan in pain. I'm glad I don't have to deal with all that."

Daryl continued to stare at her before eventually clearing his throat, "Pain is what tells us somethin's wrong."

"Morgan said the same thing," Beth sighed, faintly smiling for the first time since she'd woken up in the med bay, "but it's because I can't feel pain that I was able t'get us back here."

"I s'pose you're right," Daryl said after a few moments.

"Usually am," she hummed while her smile widened.

Daryl let out a throaty chuckle and ducked his head, "Yeah. Guess so."

Their laughter eventually faded into silence and the look Daryl gave her when their eyes met made her take a deep breath. It was the same sort of hopeful look he had given her at the gates the first day they'd met. It made her heart swell and ache all at the same time.

"I, uh…," Daryl scratched the back of his head, "I'm glad you made it back."

"Me too," Beth answered genuinely.

"I'd better go let Rick know what's goin' on," Daryl dropped his arm back to his side.

"'Kay," Beth replied.

"I'll come back by later an' check on ya'," he added.

"I'll be here," she answered with a smile.

Daryl gave her a smirk of his own and then turned to leave.

He made it two steps before he stopped and turned around, making her give him a questioning look. He glanced towards the door and then back at her.

"Daryl?" She murmured his name as she sat up in the bed.

She could see the muscles of his jaw tighten at the sound of her voice, but he didn't reply.

Just as she was about to ask him what he was doing, he strode over to her bed, and Beth instinctively looked up at him. She felt his breath ghost across her forehead before the warmth of his lips pressed against the skin above her brows. It only lasted a second before he straightened and bolted out of the room without an explanation.

Beth tentatively lifted her injured hand and brought her fingers to her forehead, brushing them across the skin Daryl had just caressed. Falling back against the bed, she wasn't sure what to make of what had just happened. She'd always felt closer to Daryl than she had with anyone else in Alexandria, but whatever had just happened between them confirmed Beth's suspicions to her unanswered question on Sherry's roof all those weeks ago.

She blinked slowly, the remaining traces of the sedative she'd been given making it hard to keep her eyes open, as she fought to stay awake. Morgan was safe for the moment, she'd informed Daryl of the dangers waiting for them in the woods, and knowing she needed rest to recuperate from the wounds she couldn't feel, Beth closed her eyes. She could still feel tingling sensation on her skin from where Daryl had pressed his lips even as sleep claimed her.

 _Even if she couldn't remember, there had definitely been_ something _between her and Daryl._

...

 **A/N:**  I decided that if everyone living in Alexandria has a job, making Barbara a nurse would flow with the content of this chapter while also incorporating her back into the story.

Dr. Grant Hudson is an original character (for any of my comic guru's). I searched all over for who was the current doctor in Alexandria (post Negan war) and came up with nothing. So I decided to keep the number of doctors ambiguous and just say he's 'one of them.'

The 'Leatherface' comment Daryl makes is in reference to Ed Gein, a murderer from Wisconsin during the 1950's, who exhumed bodies from graveyards around his hometown (also killing two known victims) and flayed the skin from their bodies. He then wore the skin of his victims around his home.  _The Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ (Leatherface) was influenced by the actual events performed by Ed Gein.

I know The Whisperers are introduced differently in the comics, but like I said, I had created my own bad guys and they were far too similar to Kirkman's for me to be able to claim creative rights. So I decided to merge them, keeping my backstory and a few original details, while using the concept Kirkman created. I went with Morgan and Beth having a run in with them because I refuse to believe that in all the time that Morgan has been alone, he hasn't run into trouble. Rick and his group have faced The Governor, Joe's Group (though not the whole family was involved with that group), Terminus, and Grady. I felt it would be a cool twist to have The Whisperers after Morgan and Beth instead of just introducing a 'new bad guy.' Beth getting caught in the herd the first time was merely coincidence, but they were definitely the targets in this last attack.


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:**  A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

 **Thank You**  Nicole for finding all my little mistakes and fixing them! You're the best! : )

...

Daryl leaned against the wall, his sharp eyes observing Rick and Dwight as they processed everything that he had revealed to them from his conversation with Beth in the med bay, and waited as they fully grasped the severity of their situation. They'd all come across some terrible individuals; the Governor, Joe's group, cannibals at Terminus, Grady, the Wolves, and Negan. The former leader of the Saviors had been the worse by far, but none of them compared to these…people? Were they still  _people_? Had they gone to the extent of the Termites; eating human flesh along with the walkers in order to keep their façade? Other than their disguise, they had made no attempt to hide their presence, which either made them careless…or fearless. Add the fact that they were capable of steering the walking dead in whichever direction they wanted made these  _people_  absolutely terrifying.

"So these… _things_  have been followin' Beth and Morgan for about 'ah year?" Dwight questioned.

"I think it's been longer than that," Rick stated from where he sat in his cushioned chair.

"What d'you mean?" Daryl pushed off the wall and approached Rick's desk.

"I can't be sure," Rick tapped the end of his ballpoint pen against his wooden desk, "We'll talk with Morgan when he wakes up. See what he can tell us."

Daryl noted the way Rick used  _when_  and not  _if_.

"These guys must either be unbelievably stealthy or lucky as fuck to have kept runnin' into the pair of them," Dwight slumped back into his chair with a huff.

"Beth said they're good at blendin' in," Daryl reiterated, "I'd say it's safe t'assume dressin' up like those geeks aren't tha' only way these bastards get around."

" _Please_ tell me you're not sayin' what I think you're sayin'," Dwight slung his arm over the back of his chair and rolled his eyes despairingly.

"Doc said there was 'ah slight downward trajectory to Beth's wound," Rick added evenly, "If she was on 'ah horse like she says, they had to of been hidin' in the trees above when they shot her."

"This just gets better and better," Dwight dragged a hand down his face, ""I  _knew_  those assholes we saw in tha' woods earlier were gonna' be bad news."

"For now," Rick rose from his seat and glanced between Daryl and Dwight, "No one leaves Alexandria's walls. For  _any_  reason."

"We gonna' leave the roads unpatrolled?" Dwight suggested.

"Well we sure as hell ain't sendin' anyone else out there t'die," Daryl grumbled.

"Yeah. We'll just have to re-clear them after all this blows over," Rick affirmed, "I want to double up on guards along tha' perimeter. Everyone that would be patrolling the roads are t'take shifts along the walls. Break 'em up at you see fit, but I want at least ten men along each walkway."

"I'll work it out as soon as we get done here," Dwight acknowledged.

"I'll send word to Hilltop and let them know what's goin' on," Rick continued, "We still haven't heard anything from The Kingdom, but I'll try sending them a message too."

"What're we gonna' do if we don't hear back from 'em?" Daryl asked from where he stood in front of Rick's desk.

"Nothin'," Rick dropped his head, "For all we know, these Whisperers have already gotten' to them."

"Won't know unless we check," Daryl countered and then offered, "I could go on my bike."

Rick looked up and narrowed his eyes at Daryl, "Alright, but let's wait 'ah few days. See if these people pull any sort of stunts now that we know they're out there."

Daryl nodded in agreement.

"So we keepin' this quiet or you want us t'spread the word around the community?" Dwight inquired as he stood from his seat and dusted off his pants.

"Let's keep it between us for now," Rick declared, "We don't know what we're up against yet and there's no reason t'make people panic until we have 'ah reason."

"I'll let Beth know," Daryl stated quietly.

"Alright," Dwight breathed, "I'll drop by Sherry's office and grab the list of our outer wall patrols. Get 'em set up along the wall."

"Have Sasha come by my office when you get there," Rick requested, "She saw them too. I wanna' make sure she knows to stay quiet about it and to pay extra attention while she's on lookout."

"What're we sayin' when people start askin' what's goin' on?" Daryl's question stopped Dwight in his tracks.

"The truth," Rick said after a moment of thought, "That we don't know what's goin' on and we're taking all tha' proper precautions to keep our people safe."

"Sounds good," Dwight accepted and continued towards the door.

Daryl gave Rick a nod and exited the room behind his right hand man.

Walking around Dwight, who had stopped at Sherry's desk, Daryl gave her a quick smile and pushed open the swinging door. Once outside of the building, Daryl placed his hands on his hips and scuffed his boot against the wooden porch. As much as he wished they could avoid any confrontation with these people, he knew it was only a matter of time before they became aware of what The Whisperers had planned for them. He just hoped that by the time they figured it out, that it wouldn't be too late. This was his  _home_ , these were his  _people_ , and he'd be  _damned_  if he didn't put up a fight to protect Alexandria.

…

Walking into the lobby of the medical center, Daryl was surprised to see Carol and his Lil' Asskicker exiting the med bay. Upon seeing him, Judith immediately let go of Carol's hand, and charged at Daryl. He couldn't keep from chuckling as the young girl's long, reddish-brown pigtails bounced with each step she took. When she was within reach he scooped her up, tossing her up in the air, before catching her and placing her on his hip.

"What brings you two here?" Daryl asked Judith, who smiled in return.

"We were visiting Beth," the child replied excitedly.

"That so?" Daryl exaggerated his tone to feign surprise, "How is she?"

"She said she'll be all better in 'ah few days," Judith recited and then added, "Momma B is gonna' take good care of her."

"Course she will," Daryl agreed with a smirk.

"Judy," Carol said next to them, "Why don't you have a seat and let me talk to Uncle Daryl for just a minute."

"'Kay," Judith replied, planting a kiss on Daryl's cheek as he lowered her to the ground and danced across the floor to a waiting room chair.

When Judith was out of earshot, Daryl turned back to Carol.

"Well?" He whispered, "How's she  _really_  doin'?"

"She's banged up pretty bad, but you'd never know it from how she's acting," Carol glanced back to the med bay doors, "It's like she doesn't even  _feel_  any of it."

Daryl grunted and changed the subject, "Morgan wake up yet?"

Carol shook her head, "He lost  _a lot_  of blood. He's gotten a slight fever so Dr. Hudson strapped down his arm and feet as a precaution."

"Ain't no need for that shit," Daryl hissed, "He would've already turned by now if he was gonna'."

"We're just taking precautions," Carol soothed, reaching a hand out to squeeze his bicep.

Daryl grit his teeth, but agreed nonetheless.

"We all care about Beth. We're looking out for  _her_  just as much as everyone else here," Carol continued, "She's in no condition to fight off a walker right now, let alone if that walker was Morgan."

"Yeah…," Daryl huffed, his eyes wandering over to Judith, "I know."

He was aware that there was no definitive 'time limit' for how long it took someone to turn. The virus affected everyone differently. Some people became debilitatingly sick while others just appeared to have a common cold. Some people turned within hours of being bit while others took days for their body to finally give out. No matter the case, the end result was always the same; they  _always_  died and reanimated as a flesh eating monster.

"I know she's important to you, which makes Morgan important to you too because of how much she cares about him, but we've got to be careful," Carol gave his arm one more squeeze before letting go, "We don't know if she amputated his arm fast enough to stop the virus from reacting throughout the rest of his body or if he's just fighting off an infection. It's better this way."

Daryl glared down at the floor and managed a weak nod.

"Aunt Carol?" Judith's soft voice sounded from across the room, "I'm hungry."

"Alright sweetie, we'll go in just a sec," Carol smiled towards the young girl before looking back to Daryl, "I'm keeping Judith while Barbara picks up an extra shift. Seems to me like she feels  _personally_  responsible for taking care of Beth and Morgan. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Carol's pointed look made Daryl avert his gaze.

"Come'on Judith," Carol motioned with her hand, "Tell Uncle Daryl bye and we'll go get you some fresh muffins at the bakery. How does that sound?"

Judith was out of her seat and squeezing her tiny arms around Daryl's leg before Carol had even finished her sentence.

Reaching down, Daryl ruffled the girl's hair, "See ya' later squirt."

Judith took Carol's hand and waved goodbye as they walked towards the exit.

Daryl took a step towards the med bay doors, but stopped when Carol called out to him.

"Oh and Daryl," the glint in her eyes had him swallowing air, "Beth was acting a bit distraught when we came to check on her. Barbara and I were concerned so we sat down and coaxed her to tell us what had her so flustered."

Daryl brought a hand up to rub the back his neck, trying to suppress the warm sensation he felt crawling up his skin.

"I never pegged you for a 'kiss on the forehead' kind of guy," Carol finished, giving him a wink, and sauntered out the door.

Taking a moment to regain his composure, he pushed through the doors of the med bay. The curtains were drawn around Beth's cot, but he could hear two feminine voices conversing behind the thick material.

"We can get your height and weight on the scale when Dr. Hudson deems you fit to move around, but can you at least tell me your middle name?" A familiar voice asked.

"I just learned my last name was Greene a little over 'ah month ago," he heard Beth's distinct voice reply, "You honestly think I can help you answer  _any_  of these questions?"

Pushing the curtain to the side, Daryl found Barbara standing next to Beth's bed with a clipboard in hand.

"Her middle name's Ann," he answered gruffly.

He felt Beth's gaze roaming over his form, immediately feeling the heat return to the back of his neck, but kept his focus on Barbara. The older woman was fighting back a smile, which made an already awkward situation even more so.

Regaining a professional tone, the blonde nurse quickly moved back to the top of the paper she'd been reading from, "Do you know Beth's date of birth?"

"August fifteenth," Daryl replied and sat in the chair still placed next to the bed, "and whatever year would make her twenty-two."

"Any significant family history I need to record?" Barbara asked while scribbling on the paper.

"You'd have t'ask Maggie that one," Daryl shrugged his shoulders, "None that I know of though."

"Has she ever been outside of the United States?" Barbara glanced up at him.

"Not that I can recall," Daryl shook his head.

"Smoke?" Barbara continued down the list.

Daryl shook his head again.

"Drink?" She asked in an exhale.

Daryl smirked, "Once."

"Has she ever been pregnant?" Barbara inquired casually.

Daryl glanced at Beth who raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Clearing his throat and adjusting himself in his seat, he answered with a quick, "No."

"Any surgeries or prior health concerns?" The nurse articulated steadily.

"She, uh…" Daryl watched Beth out of the corner of his eye, "There was 'ah suicide attempt when she was sixteen."

Daryl noticed the way Beth's injured hand covered her left wrist.

"I see," Barbara remained professional, "Anything else?"

Daryl thought for a moment before responding, "When we found her at Grady, she had 'ah cast on her hand. Same one that's wrapped now."

"Alrighty," Barbara made a show of marking a period on the page, "that's all the important ones. I'll get on the radio and have Maggie fill in the rest of the blanks."

"'Kay," Daryl nodded.

"You be sure an get some rest and I'll let you know if anything changes with Morgan," Barbara stated as she moved to the curtain aside.

"Thanks," Beth gave her a small smile and then turned her attention to Daryl, "You know? It's really weird havin' someone else who is able t'answer all my personal history questions. Especially since the only answer I knew was 'what is your first an' last name.'"

"Everything I know is 'cause I was either there or you told me," Daryl leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees.

Beth's eyes danced over his face as he let his own absorb how exhausted she looked.

"How ya' feelin'?" He asked gently.

Beth huffed, "I feel like I do any other day; totally  _fine_."

"You really can't feel any pain?" Daryl asked skeptically.

"Nope," Beth brushed her hands over her sheets in an effort to smooth out the wrinkles, "I really can't."

"If you don't feel it," he furrowed his brows, "then how do you know when yer' hurt?"

"Morgan usually makes 'ah big show of pointing out that I'm bleeding…again," her lips formed a fond smile only to drop a moment later, "but unless I see bruises or blood, I have no way of tellin' if I've been injured or not."

Daryl filed away this important bit of information and a heavy silence fell between them.

He had so many questions he wanted to ask her. They hadn't really had the chance to talk about what all she'd endured during her travels with Morgan or what it had been like for her when she had first healed from her wound, but most of all, he wanted to ask her about The Whisperers. She was the only person, besides Morgan, who knew anything about these people and the more Daryl could learn about them, the more he could protect his people  _from_  them.

"A little bird told me we're gonna' have matchin' scars," Beth's tired voice regained his attention.

"That so?" Daryl tried to sound lighthearted, but knew he failed.

She lifted her uninjured hand and pointed from her side to his.

"Carol told ya' the story 'bout Nervous Nelly huh?" He chuckled genuinely.

"Yeah," she smiled wearily, "She said it wasn't funny at tha' time, but now it's one of the best stories she's got on ya'."

"Yeah, well," Daryl ran a hand through his shaggy hair, "horses ain't really my thing."

"I'll have t'remember that," she hummed while lifting her hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn.

He knew he should leave and let her rest, but he still needed fill her in on what Rick had discussed with them in his office. Deciding to keep the conversation as short as possible, he rose from his chair and placed it against the wall beside her bed.

"Rick's contactin' Hilltop and The Kingdom to let them know what's goin' on here," Daryl shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Good," Beth murmured, "If The Whisperers are here, I'm sure they've already scoped out tha' other communities."

"We're gonna' be on lockdown for 'ah while. No one's allowed t'leave the walls until we figure out what they're up to," Daryl explained quietly.

Beth remained silent and stared blankly in front of her.

"Rick wants us to keep quiet about The Whisperers fer' now," he continued when she made no attempt to reply, "We're gonna' talk t'Morgan when he wakes up. See if we can come up with a plan t'handle this without losin' any more of our people."

"You have no idea what those  _things_  are capable of," Beth glared down at the foot of her bed and took a shaky breath.

"I told ya' we'd take care of these people," Daryl took a hesitant step closer, "and we will."

"They're  _not_  people," Beth glared up at him, "and they're not walkers. They're somethin' else entirely."

Daryl chewed on the inside of his lip, unsure of how to reply.

"Any strategy you think of isn't gonna' work," she continued, "They're not afraid of anything. They're smart. They're able to blend in  _anywhere_  and I can almost guarantee you that they know how everything works here."

"What's that's s'pose to mean?" Daryl's eyes narrowed with the sharpness of his tone.

"If they really followed us, they've been out there for over a month," she articulated slowly, "They've been watching and we never even knew they were there."

"So you're sayin' that no matter what we do, it ain't gonna' matter?" Daryl asked harshly as he leaned down and placed his palms flat against the mattress of her cot.

Beth's eyes softened, her lips turned downward into a frown, and her blonde hair fell around her face as she used the elbow of her uninjured arm to push herself up from the bed. Daryl felt her breath ghost his cheeks as she closed the distance between them. His gaze travelled over her face, taking in the scar on her cheek, the blueness of her eyes, and how soft her skin looked under the florescent lighting of the med bay. They sat there for a moment, searching each other, before Beth finally spoke.

"What I'm sayin'," she murmured as her face twisted in distaste, "is that no matter what you do…you're  _gonna'_  lose people."

"We'll figure somethin' out," Daryl tried to keep his tone even as he spoke.

"I hope you do," Beth's eyes danced over his face, "For your people's sake."

Daryl drew his eyebrows together in perplexity. He didn't like the way Beth didn't include herself amongst the population living within the walls of Alexandria. She may have only been reunited with them a month ago, but he had thought she was finally getting comfortable with the idea of living with everyone.

"I should get some rest," she leaned back onto the worn mattress.

Daryl nodded.

He suddenly felt as if her placing distance between them went beyond just the literal sense. There was something going on behind her eyes that he couldn't quite figure out.

"I'll come by in tha' monrnin'," Daryl replied as he pushed off her bed.

"I'll be here," she declared, but the smile she had given him earlier was missing.

Daryl moved to push the curtain aside, glancing at Beth over his shoulder, and exited the med bay. He knew she wouldn't be going anywhere with Morgan in the state that he was in, but that didn't stop the heavy feeling that was growing in his chest.

Pushing through the doors to exit the building, taking in the darkening sky, he made a mental note to express his concerns to Barbara in the morning.

…

Beth's eyes flitted about, taking in her surroundings. She was in the woods, outside the walls of Alexandria, by herself. Green trees and foliage filled her vision in every direction that she looked. She listened for signs of life, but all she heard was her heart drumming loudly in her ears. There were no birds chirping, no animals scurrying about, and even the crickets had silenced their music. It was far too quiet and she felt every nerve in her body jumping on edge.

Glancing down at her bandaged arm, she realized she didn't have her machete with her. Pressing her hands to the waistline of her jeans, she started to panic when her knife was absent from its customary place on her belt. She couldn't believe that she had snuck into the woods without a weapon to use to defend herself. It went against  _everything_  Morgan had taught her about surviving in their world.

The sound of shuffling in the trees behind her had her spinning on her heel, facing the direction of the noise, only to find the woods empty.

"Hello?" She tried to keep her voice from shaking.

 _Silence_ …

"Is somebody there?" She asked in a tone filled with false confidence.

She took a step back, the sensation to run weighing heavily upon her, and froze when the bushes in front of her began to rustle.

"I know you're there," she grit her teeth, "Quit bein' a coward and just  _come out_!"

She could handle a walker, but she  _knew_  whatever was in the bushes wasn't undead. The dead didn't hide in the underbrush and wait for their prey. Their entire purpose was to feed on the flesh of the living and she had made more than enough noise to draw out a walker if there was one nearby.

A figure stepped out of the shadows and Beth was just about to turn and flee when she recognized the person's face.

" _Morgan_?" She hissed, "What tha' hell are you doin' out here?"

"It's all your fault," his voice came out broken.

"What?" She furrowed her brows.

"You killed me…" His words echoed through her.

"No," Beth shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes, " _No_! I  _saved_ you!"

" _Look at me!_ " He bellowed so loudly that Beth had to cover her ears.

Beth took in his form as he stepped into the moonlight.

His arm looked as if it had been freshly amputated. Blood poured from the severed appendage and pooled at his feet. His skin was an ashen shade of black-gray and his eyes looked unfocused. He was sweating profusely, leaving damp impressions in the front of his shirt, and he swayed on his feet with each step he took.

"What…what happened to you?" She barely managed to whisper.

"You killed me," Morgan repeated.

"No…" She choked out a sob.

"You  _killed_ me," the words came out like a mantra.

Beth pressed her hands harder against her ears, trying to block out his words.

" _You killed me_ ," he yelled with each sluggish step he took.

"No! I had to," she pleaded as she fell to her knees, "You were bit. I had no other choice."

She felt the damp grass beneath her seeping into her jeans, matching the spots that dotted her thighs as the tears streamed down her face.

"You killed me," he was standing over her, breathing heavily, "So now I'm gonna' kill  _you_."

Beth's eyes shot up in time to see Morgan's lips turn into a snarl, baring his teeth, and then he was lunging for her neck.

Shooting up in her chair, she blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to adjust to the bright lights that filled the room. It was only when she saw the cot in front of her that she remembered where she was and why she was there.

"I would say good mornin'," a hoarse voice caught her attention, "but I got no idea what time of day it is."

Beth reached forward, desperately grasping the warm hand resting against the mattress, and tried to calm her racing heartbeat.

"Beth? Hun?" She could barely hear the words being spoken to her, "You okay?"

Taking a deep breath, she forced her eyes up to meet the dark brown ones staring at her in concern.

"Yeah…yeah," she nodded her head several times, "Just 'ah bad dream."

"Wanna' talk about it?" Morgan inquired gently.

Beth pressed her lips into a tight smile and shook her head, "No. No, I'm okay."

Morgan continued to stare at her, but didn't press her further.

Clearing her throat, giving him a much more genuine smile, she asked, "How're you feelin'?"

"Not feelin' much of anything at tha' moment," Morgan breathed, "Barbara gave me some morphine when I woke up earlier."

"Now you know how I feel," she teased lightly.

Morgan's cracked lips turned upwards before he grimaced.

"Do I need to get tha' doctor?" Beth asked, jumping to her feet and hovering over his bed, squeezing his hand even tighter than before.

"No," Morgan exhaled, "How long have I been out?"

Slowly reclaiming her chair, Beth scooting it closer to the bed, and wrapped her other hand over top of his, "'Bout four days."

"Damn," Morgan wheezed a chuckle, "Longest nap I've had in 'ah few years."

"They say old people need their sleep," Beth smiled, "Guess it's true."

She knew what Morgan was going to do even before he did. She waited for his hand to ruffle her hair, but it never came. It would never come again. It  _couldn't_. He had lifted what remained of his arm off of the bed, only to lower the stub back down onto the mattress, no longer having a hand attached to the appendage to use as he had in the past when she'd teased him.

"That's gonna' take some gettin' used to," he sighed dejectedly.

Beth felt tears prickling her eyes and she bit down on her bottom lip in order to keep it from wobbling.

"Beth…" she felt him tighten his grip on her hand as he said her name.

"Do you…," she took a deep breath and tried again, "Do you remember anything?"

"I remember the herd, I remember tryin' t'keep you safe, I remember gettin' bit, and I remember you not listenin' to me when I told you t'leave me behind," Morgan listed off easily.

Beth nodded feebly.

"You saved my life Beth," his voice sounded deeper from the seriousness of his tone, "I was 'ah dead man walkin', but you managed t'stop it in time."

Beth nodded again, blinking away tears.

" _You saved me,_ " he reiterated strongly.

Even though she hadn't told him the words that haunted her from her dream, hearing that Morgan was thankful rather than blaming her for what had happened to him took an immense weight off of her heart.

"I wasn't gonna' leave you," she sniffled, "I know you've got family waitin' for you, but just…I was selfish. I didn't want you to leave me here alone."

"Now you listen t'me," Morgan said gently, taking his hand from hers and placing it on top of her head, "That's not selfish Beth. That's just human nature. None of us want t'be left alone. By cuttin' off my arm, you saved my life."

"I didn't know if it would work," Beth glanced towards what was left of his bandaged arm, "I jus' knew I had t'stop the virus from reacting throughout tha' rest of your body."

"You done good, kid," Morgan ruffled her hair and placed his arm back down on the bed, "I miss my wife…my son, but tha' truth is; I wasn't ready t'go either."

"You weren't?" Beth looked at him through her brimming tears.

"Jenny and Duane aren't goin' nowhere. They know I'm down here tryin' to look after you," he smiled widely, "Pretty sure Jenny would kick me right outta' heaven if I left you here with tha' way things are right now."

Beth laughed despite the tears that escaped her eyes.

"Don't ever feel guilty for this," he nodded down at his arm, "If losin' my arm gives me a little more time here to make sure you're takin' care of, I'd choose t'lose it all over again."

Beth bit her lip, trying to contain her smile, and quickly wiped away her tears.

"I promise I won't leave you 'til you don't need me anymore," Morgan said solemnly.

"What if I'll always need you?" Beth challenged.

"Then I'll be here for as long as I can," he answered with a smile.

It never ceased to amaze her how Morgan knew just what to say to make her feel better. After the week she'd had, keeping a strong vigil at his bedside once she'd been released from her own bed rest, seeing his eyes open, being able to feel the strong pulse in his wrist, and that he'd been officially feverless for over forty-eight hours meant the world to her. He wasn't going to turn. He wasn't going to leave her. That was all she could ask for.

"Now," Morgan exhaled, "What's been goin' on the last few days that I've slept through?"

Beth's smile faltered and Morgan's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

She needed to tell him about the herd, Byron, The Whisperers, and everything else, but she didn't want to ruin the moment. She and Morgan had been through so much the past three years and she knew he'd been through so much more in the two years prior to their meeting. Seeing him lying in the bed, feeling safe and totally at ease, was something she'd  _never_  experienced before, but the truth of the matter was that they  _weren't_  safe. No matter where they went or how thick the walls were that surrounded them, they would never truly be 'safe.'

"What…do you remember about tha' walkers we fought?" Beth asked hesitantly.

Morgan scrunched his eyebrows thoughtfully, "A lotta' what happened is still fuzzy. Should I remember anything in particular?"

"That guy we covered the patrol for…Byron? He was murdered," Beth looked down at her hands, fisted tightly in her lap, "They followed us, Morgan. The Whisperers. They followed us and they're  _here_."

It was silent for a moment and Beth brought her eyes back up to find Morgan staring towards the ceiling.

"Damnit," he sighed dejectedly, "I was hopin' that I'd dreamed that part."

"That one walker," Beth didn't elaborate, "wasn't really 'ah walker."

"Yeah," Morgan nodded his head, still staring upwards, "Yeah…I know."

"What're we gonna' do?" She whispered, "They're after  _us_. We're putting all of these people in danger just by bein' here."

Morgan lifted his head and met her worried gaze, "You tell 'em?"

"I told Daryl everything," she replied.

"Good," Morgan breathed, "What've they done so far?"

"Rick's got the place on lockdown. No one leaves the walls," she answered solemnly, "They want t'keep this quiet and said they were gonna' wait until you woke up. Talk t'you about it and try to come up with some sort 'ah plan."

"Alright," Morgan murmured.

"No," Beth whispered harshly, "It's  _not_  alright."

She clenched her jaw, unsure if she should continue. She didn't want to stress Morgan out in his condition, but he needed to know just how badly these people were underestimating the monsters hiding amongst the dead.

"Daryl thinks they'll be able to come up with somethin' that keeps anyone else from gettin' killed. They think they'll be able t'handle those  _things_ ," Beth began to ramble, "Daryl thinks that these walls will keep everyone safe. He doesn't understand-"

"Beth," Morgan's tone cut her off, "We'll figure somethin' out."

"But what if-"

He lifted a finger, silencing her dispute, "I'll talk t'Rick and we'll come up with 'ah plan."

Beth sighed in defeat.

"Rick's a survivor," Morgan continued, "He's kept these people  _safe_. He's kept them  _alive_. He's not gonna' do anything that jeopardizes that."

"Us bein' here jeopardizes everything," Beth words dripped with disdain.

"I know," Morgan leaned back against his mattress and returned his gaze to the ceiling while repeating his statement in a quieter tone, "I know."

Beth wanted to believe that it would be different this time. She wanted to believe that Rick and Daryl would be able to help them find a way to end this once and for all, but that was just wishful thinking. The only way she and Morgan would ever be rid of those things would be the day that every single of one of them were eradicated from the face of the virus-torn Earth.

Morgan believed in Rick, so she would sit quietly and wait for the inevitable. The people here were still alive because of the walls that protected them. Many of them wouldn't last a day outside of the sanctuary that Rick and Daryl had worked so hard to maintain. The world outside was a full of deranged, malicious people, the dead, and then what she considered to be the product of the two combined. She'd seen a lot of things the past three years, but The Whisperers had plagued her dreams for as long as she could remember.

_They truly were the things that nightmares were made of…_

…

 **A/N:** All the statistics I used in 'Barbara's doctor form scene' are Emily Kinney's that I found on a few websites. I cross-referenced them against each other for legitimacy and used Emily's birthday since we don't know Beth's!

Jenny is the name of Morgan's wife…in case anyone missed that from the show/comics!

So I've read that your dreams sometimes manifest what you're feeling. I feel like that's the best way to explain some of the things people experience without having them have some long, drawn out, inner monologue. It also keeps with the theme of this story, since we started out with Daryl looking back on his dreams. Thus, I would like to think that Beth would have some guilt for what she had to do to save Morgan (losing his arm), but she doesn't regret doing it.


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:**  A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

 **Thank You**  so much Nicole for staying up late to edit this for me so I could post tonight!!! You're the best!!

 **A/N:** Just wanted to let you guys know that during the month of  **June**  I will not be posting! I’m taking my first vacation in like six years (last one was in 2009) and while I’ll be taking my laptop with me, I’m hoping to be too busy to actually have down time to sit and write! I  _MIGHT_  post towards the end of the month, but I wanted you guys to have plenty of notice that after my second post in  **May** , to not expect anything until  **July**!!

…

Beth had spent the past forty-eight hours by Morgan’s side. She hadn’t left the med bay, even to eat, and Barbara had been kind enough to bring an additional meal for her when Morgan was served his food. She was stiff from sitting in the plastic chair beside his bed and she hadn’t been able to sleep through the night since their encounter outside of the walls, but she refused to leave him alone. The Whisperers were in the woods and she knew they would eventually figure out a way inside. It was only a matter of time.

“Beth?” A voice interrupted her thoughts, “Where’d you go?”

Beth blinked and looked over to Morgan, “I’m here. Just got lost in my thoughts.”

“You look tired,” he declared while giving her a once over.

“That ‘ah nice way of sayin’ I look like hell?” Beth narrowed her eyes and smirked.

“Somethin’ like that,” Morgan chuckled.

Sighing, she picked at her thumb nail, “Yeah, well, sleepin’ in a plastic chair isn’t exactly comfortable. Those mattresses aren’t much better. Feels like I’m sleepin’ on rocks.”

She wasn’t completely lying. The chairs  _were_  uncomfortable and the mattress had barely enough cushioning left to be considered a legitimate bed, but that wasn’t what kept her up at night. The reality was that each and every night, once she had fallen asleep, men and women dressed as the dead would haunt her. Sometimes she would be running from them, desperately trying to get back to the walls, and other times they would attack those she cared about while she was powerless to stop them. Despite the severity and vividness of her nightmares, she didn’t want Morgan to fret over her. He needed to heal, he needed to gain his strength back enough for him to defend himself, and he needed to do it  _fast_. There was no way of knowing what The Whisperers were planning and she needed the reassurance that he would be able to take care of himself.

“Sure there ain’t somethin’ else botherin’ you?” He queried apprehensively.

 “What else would there be?” Beth feigned obliviousness.

By the way he narrowed his eyes at her and the tone of his voice; she knew he was aware that she wasn’t telling him the truth.

“When did we start keepin’ secrets from each other?” Morgan breathed in deeply.

Beth felt a pang of guilt, biting the tip of her tongue to keep the snappy retort she had ready to deflect his question, the swinging doors clattered behind them and his question was left unanswered. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a familiar set of broad shoulders, shaggy hair, and piercing blue eyes entering the room.

“Mornin’,” Daryl greeted them.

“Good mornin’ Daryl,” Morgan returned with a smile.

“Hey,” Beth murmured over her shoulder.

She caught a glimpse of Daryl’s furrowed brows before she turned back around to stare at the makeshift railing that had been bolted to the side of Morgan’s cot.

“I’s just comin’ to see how you were feelin’,” Daryl continued after a few moments.

“Still a bit sore,” the older man admitted, “but I’m feelin’ more like myself every day.”

“That’s good. Doc say how long it’d be ‘til you’d be on your feet again?” Daryl questioned.

“‘Bout two weeks,” Morgan replied, “So long as infection doesn’t set in.”

“Yeah,” Beth tapped the toe of her boot against the metal leg of the bed, “Then we have to figure somethin’ out for your arm.”

Silence fell between them.

Beth could feel Daryl’s looming presence behind her. The heat radiating from under his flannel shirt and leather vest was warm against her back. Every time he shifted, the scent of pine and oil would drift past her, and she suddenly began having trouble keeping her eyes open.

 “I, uh,” Daryl cleared his throat, “My brother. He lost his hand.”

“I’m sorry t’hear that,” Morgan consoled genuinely.

“S’okay,” Beth felt the material of Daryl’s shirt brush against her arm as he spoke, “Don’t matter now. He’s gone, but he, uh… He made this prosthetic thing for his hand. It went over his arm and he attached ‘ah blade to tha’ end of it.”

Beth perked up at the information. Not only could she vaguely remember Daryl mentioning he had a brother, but more so because it had never occurred to her that they could craft some sort of weaponized, artificial limb. She had honestly expected Morgan to be limited to one arm and vulnerable on his left side for the remainder of his life.

“What would we need t’make somethin’ like that?” Beth turned around in her chair to look up at Daryl.

“I already talked t’Carl about it,” Daryl informed her and then moved his gaze to Morgan, “Said he’d need you t’come visit  when everything settles down so he can get your measurements. He’s tha’ blacksmith over at Hilltop. He’s got everything there if you’re interested.”

“He can really make somethin’?” Beth smiled when Daryl nodded.

“Sounds good t’me,” Morgan said from his cot.

“I’ll ask Sherry to radio over and let ‘em know,” Daryl smirked down at her.

“Thank you,” Beth tried to express the relief she felt in those two words.

“Not that big of ‘ah deal,” Daryl mumbled.

“It is,” Morgan spoke smoothly, “Thank you Daryl.”

“Yeah,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Just wanted to try an’ help.”

“You have,” Morgan smiled warmly.

“It’d be kind ‘ah like my machete,” Beth turned back to Morgan, “with the brace and all.”

“Guess you’ll be the one givin’ me weapons lessons now,” Morgan teased, “ _And so the student becomes the master_.”

Beth rolled her eyes at his exaggerated tone, “At least you won’t get ‘ah crash course on ‘surviving in the apocalypse’ like I did.”

“I’d imagine losin’ an arm is about on par,” Morgan chuckled and then inquired, “Speakin’ of, where is your machete?”

Beth tilted her head and furrowed her brows.

She hadn’t seen any of her belongings since she’d been brought to the med bay. She had been confined to her bed for almost a week, stayed with Morgan since she’d ‘officially’ been released, and she’d only stepped outside for a moment or two to get some fresh air once or twice. When she’d awoken, she’d been dressed in a clean pair of clothes, but nothing more. Being so stressed about Morgan’s condition she had never even noticed that her weapons and other essentials were missing.

“I got yer’ stuff,” Daryl stated behind her.

“Oh,” Beth looked back at him, “Really?”

“Yeah. I never got a chance to work on the brace, so I figured I’d take it and try to figure out a way to add the padding,” Daryl explained, “I need t’see where the brace is leavin’ bruises on your arm though.”

“Why don’t you go and let him try t’fix it for you,” Morgan suggested.

“But…,” Beth glanced between the two of them.

“Beth, sugar, I’ll be right here, layin’ in this bed when you get back,” Morgan encouraged, “You haven’t left this building for nearly ‘ah week and you  _need_  to get some sorta’ padding on that brace.”

“Are you sure?” Beth worked her bottom lip between her teeth.

“ _Go_ ,” Morgan commanded, “I’ll be fine.”

“Well…,” Beth sighed in defeat, “Okay. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

“Take your time,” Morgan said with a smile.

Beth nodded and rose from her chair.

“Rick said he’d be comin’ by later t’check on you,” Daryl announced as Beth moved beside him.

“Alright,” Morgan accepted.

“He’s got ‘ah few questions for ya’,” Daryl elaborated.

“I’d imagine so,” Morgan nodded gravely.

Daryl turned to Beth and jerked his head toward the door, “Your stuffs back at my house.”  

“‘Kay,” she acknowledged as she followed him out of the building.

She had to shield her eyes from the bright rays of the sun that overwhelmed her sight. The way the warm beams of light kissed her skin and how the cool breeze flit through her hair, Beth realized how much she missed being outdoors.

“That brace tha’ one that came with the machete?” Daryl questioned as they walked.

“No,” Beth shook her head, “The original brace was too big for my arm. Morgan and I built the one on there now from some spare parts in an old car garage. Made it to where it would cover both sides of my arm for protection.”

“Smart,” Daryl commented.

“It was Morgan’s idea,” Beth stated proudly.

She walked beside him, making a quick detour by Sherry’s office with the message for Carl, and then they travelled a few blocks over to his house. Climbing the stairs of his porch, her senses were assaulted by smells she had come to associate strictly with Daryl as she entered his home.

“You want somethin’ to drink?” Daryl asked, tossing his muddy boots on the tile entryway in the front door.

“No thanks,” Beth answered while she copied his actions.

“Alright. I’ll go grab your stuff and ‘ah couple things I’ll need to pad your brace,” Daryl said over his shoulder while walking out of the room.

Beth took a seat on the couch and cast her eyes around the room. The last time she had been in the house she had only taken stock of all the ways she could exit the home in case of an emergency, a subconscious act Morgan had instilled in her, but looking around now she realized how nice Daryl’s house actually was. The same trunk he’d gotten her knife from was still sitting in front of the curtained bay windows that kept the sun from illuminating the room. There was a couch, a coffee table, recliner, and stools in front of the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen. Her focus shifted to Daryl when he reentered carrying her belt, knife, machete, and the clothes she’d been wearing when she was taken to the med bay.

“Thanks for takin’ care of my things for me,” Beth said as she reached out to take her belongings.

“Yeah,” Daryl murmured, handing over her things and moving to sit on the couch.

Beth slid her belt into the loops of her jeans, threading her knife holster through so that it would sit on her side, and reclaimed her spot on the couch.

“I meant t’bring your stuff back to ya’, but we’ve been busy makin’ sure the wall is secure,” Daryl explained in an apologetic tone.

“It’s okay,” Beth hummed, “I was too preoccupied with Morgan and didn’t even realize anything was missin’.”

Daryl nodded and began inspecting the brace of her machete.

Beth watched with interest as he examined Morgan’s craftsmanship. There were dents in the brace from where walkers had clamped down on the aluminum with their teeth. Some of the bolts were beginning to rust from weather and the copious amounts of blood that the weapon had been covered in over the past two years. Despite everything, the blade, while worn, was still sharp from time and effort she spent grinding it with her whet stone.

“Lemme’ see your arm,” Daryl requested quietly.

He took hold of her hand and turned it over so that her palm was facing him. He then gently began removing the bandages that were tightly bound over her skin. Once the compress had been removed, he began inspecting her arm, gently flipping her hand over and back again as he examined each bruise.   The marks on her skin had faded to a yellowish-green, signifying that it would only be a few more days until they were gone completely, and the swelling around her wrist had lessened significantly.

The way Daryl gently examined each and every bruise that marred her skin, brushing his calloused fingers across her flesh as he glanced between her arm and the brace of her weapon, and the feel of his warm breath ghosting over her palm caused a fluttering sensation to spread inside her stomach. She suddenly felt clammy, the hand resting in her lap was beginning to sweat, and each inhalation felt more difficult than the last. Her eyes traced the way his hair fell in his face as he leaned over and placed the machete back on the coffee table, they then darted to his mouth as he bit his lower lip while he concentrated, and finally his eyes locked with hers.

“Beth?” Daryl’s stare filled with concern.

Inhaling, she tried to find her voice, but couldn’t seem to be able to think of a reply.

His brows drew together and she knew she needed to say something... _anything_.

“Yeah?” Her breathy response sounded foreign to her own ears.

His frown deepened, “Am I hurtin’ you?”

“What?” Beth glanced down at her arm, “ _Oh_. No. No, you’re not.”

“Ya’ sure?” He asked with a hint of skepticism.

Ignoring the queasiness in her stomach, she gave him a firm nod.

Daryl gave her one last look before she gently placed her arm back in her lap and turned to the coffee table.

“What’s that?” She asked when he pulled a handful of something from beside him on the couch.

“I took tha’ padding out of ‘ah motorcycle helmet Aaron had in his garage when I went and checked his house for ‘em,” Daryl replied, giving her a piece of soft fabric-like material.

“Who’s Aaron?” She inquired with genuine curiosity.

“He’s tha’ guy that brought us here in tha’ first place,” Daryl murmured while taking pieces of foam and measuring them inside the brace, “If not for him, then we’d still be out there…probably dead by now.”

“Oh,” Beth exhaled, “Where…is he?”

“After tha’ war with Negan, he had some shit t’deal with,” Daryl answered vaguely, “He went t’Hilltop for ‘ah while with Maggie and Glenn. Now he works with Rosita managing the herds and steerin’ them away from the colonies.”

“Have I met him?” Beth tried to recall anyone named Aaron from all the people she’d be introduced to.

“Nah,” Daryl shook his head, “He’s Hilltop right now. Supposed t’be comin’ back with supplies in a week er’ two.”

“It’s nice of you t’check his house for him,” Beth expressed with a small smile.

“He’s a good guy,” Daryl paused from fiddling with the brace to look at her, “I owe him a lot.”

Beth nodded, completely understanding, and watched as Daryl went back to tinkering with her weapon.

Silence fell between them as Daryl used his knife to shave the padding so they fit along the rails of her brace. She watched him take a small screwdriver and poke a hole through each end of the foam material. He then took some clear fishing line, placing both ends through the hole of the padding, and began looping the string around the brace to secure the padding in place. It looked like a tedious process and Beth felt she needed to once again express her gratitude.

“I, uh,” she fumbled when his sharp gaze returned to her, “I really appreciate you doin’ this.”

“S’no big deal,” his voice came out rough, “but this is just ‘ah temporary fix.”

“I’m doin’ this more for Morgan’s sake than my own,” Beth replied nonchalantly, “Not havin’ the padding never affected me anyway.”

Daryl hesitated as he strung another piece of padding around the second rail, “I could make ya’ a new one.”

“New brace?” Beth raised an eyebrow in uncertainty.

“Yeah. I built my bike from spare parts,” Daryl shrugged, “Figure makin’ a brace for this can’t be much harder.”

“You built your own motorcycle?” Beth asked bemusedly.

They had come across a few working vehicles while on the road, but Morgan had always preferred to travel on foot. Vehicles not only attracted the attention of the walkers, but also anyone else out there willing to kill in order to take your belongings.

“Uh-huh,” Daryl confirmed, “Not that hard if ya’ know what you’re doin’.”

“Well…thanks, but,” Beth started; now wanting to seem ungrateful for his offer, “you’ve already done enough. It really doesn’t bother me if the padding doesn’t last. I don’t really need it anyway.”

“Have you seen your arm?” He sneered as his eyes flicked from her to injured limb.

“I can’t feel-”

“That ain’t tha’ point Beth,” Daryl snapped as he tossed the brace down on the table.

Beth clenched her jaw. She scooted back onto the couch, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes, her anger simmering just under her skin. She was about to make a snarky reply when he continued in a softer tone.

“You said unless you’re bleedin’ or see bruising or somethin’ that you don’t know if you’ve been hurt or not,” Daryl huffed, running a hand through his hair, “Your arm was a fuckin’  _mess_  when the doc looked at it. You  _know_  the brace is causin’ damage and if you don’t plan on takin’ care of yourself, then…”

 Beth’s irritation quickly transformed into perplexity, “Then… _what_?”

“Then I’ll just have t’make sure you don’t do nothin’ stupid myself,” Daryl bellowed in frustration, refusing to look at her.

Beth blinked, unsure of how to respond, and finally settled for, “Oh…”

“You’re not givin’ me much choice with all this shit goin’ on,” Daryl grumbled, picking up the machete and jerkily tying off the loose string he’d been working with before his outburst.

Although she didn’t know Daryl as well as she might have  _before_ , she had been around him enough to begin understanding how he worked. When he was worried or frustrated, he’d resort to anger, or if he was upset, he would go off alone where no one could find him. There were other mannerisms she hadn’t quite been able to decipher the meaning of, but she knew in time, she’d have him completely figured out.

Realizing her thoughts, she mentally shook her head, and decided to make a peace offering, “Fine. I’ll agree t’let you make me ‘ah new brace if you let me help you.”

“Okay-”

“And I don’t mean jus’ sit in the room while you work. I mean I want to actually help build it,” she clarified.

Daryl finally looked up at her and smirked, “Alright.”

Beth felt her lips curve into a smile and she settled into the couch to let him finish his work.

He continued to measure and shave down each piece of padding with his knife, making holes, and meticulously looping the clear fishing line through to attach it to the machete brace. She watched his hands work, enveloped in the warm of his couch and the smells of his house, and before long she felt her eyes beginning to droop. She hadn’t slept well since she’d returned from outside the walls and being deprived of a dreamless slumber for so long was finally taking its toll. Each time she blinked, it was a struggle to reopen her eyes, and the sounds of Daryl working beside her were slowly lulling her to sleep.

Closing her eyes, she felt herself tip to the side, landing against something solid and warm and she fell fast asleep.

…

Daryl’s fingers were beginning to ache from threading the clear string through the padding onto Beth’s brace, but he only had a few pieces left before he would feel satisfied that it would no longer cause injury to her wrist. As he was tying off the line to the last piece of foam, he felt a pressure against his side. Glancing over, he saw Beth was fast asleep, and had lost her balance from where she sat.

 “Beth?” He whispered quietly.

When his only reply was the sound of her even breathing, Daryl sighed and chewed on the inside of his lip. He knew if he tried to stand up, she would no doubt wake up, and he had seen how tired she was from the dark circles under her eyes. Morgan had also made a comment in regards to her appearance. Beth had been outside getting some air when Daryl had come to visit and the older man stated that he feared nightmares were keeping her from getting more than a couple of hours the past few nights.

His eyes darted around the room before looking over his shoulder at Beth once more. Her blond hair spilled across her shoulder, her lips were slightly parted, and her face was devoid of any of the stress he’d seen since she awoke in the med bay. She just looked so… _tired_. Determined not to wake her, Daryl took a steadying breath, and set her weapon on the coffee table one final time.

Twisting ever so slowly, he managed to prop her head against his shoulder. He held his breath when she stirred, waiting to see if he had awoken her, and exhaled when she leaned further into his shoulder. He then maneuvered himself off of the couch, placing his free arm under his knees, and lifted her up. Taking smooth steps, he exited to the living room, strode down the hall, and kicked open the door to his bedroom. He placed his knee on the mattress and carefully placed Beth into his unmade bed. She immediately turned onto her side, but did nothing to indicate that she would be waking any time soon. Throwing his covers over her, he quietly left the room, shutting the door behind him.

With Beth taken care of, he made his way back into the living room when a knock sounded at the door. Jerking his head to his bedroom door, hoping Beth was so deeply asleep she hadn’t heard the noise, he rushed to the door before his visitor could knock again.

“Hey,” Dwight said, his fist still in the air, “Rick told me t’come see if you were ready to talk t’Morgan.”

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded and looked over his shoulder once more, “Yeah. Just give me ‘ah sec.”

“Everything alright?” Dwight inquired, trying to follow the path of Daryl’s eyes.

“Yeah, fine,” Daryl didn’t elaborate.

“If you say so,” Dwight muttered and stepped across the threshold of the house.

“Keep yer’ voice down,” Daryl hissed, grabbing his crossbow.

“What tha’  _hell_  is goin’ on with you?” Dwight whispered harshly.

“Nothin’,” Daryl brushed passed him and slipped on his boots, not bothering to tie the laces, “Let’s go.”

Daryl waited for Dwight to step onto the porch before he peered inside to see his bedroom door still closed. Ignoring the bizarre look Dwight was giving him as he shut his front door; Daryl bounded down the steps and started toward the hospital. After a few moments, he could hear Dwight’s footsteps in the gravel behind him.

…

Daryl entered the med bay to find Rick sitting in a chair beside Morgan’s bed, both laughing. As he approached, Morgan gave him a warm smile and Rick greeted him with a nod.

“Beth not with you?” Morgan asked, looking around for the young blonde.

“No,” he replied, “She fell asleep.”

“ _Good_ ,” Morgan sounded relieved.

“ _That’s_  why you were actin’ so damn weird when I knocked on your door,” Dwight chuckled, patting Daryl’s shoulder.

Daryl shrugged the offending hand off and grumbled, “Shut up Dwight.”

“Ain’t nothin’ t’be ashamed of,” Dwight teased, “You finally got ‘ah girl in your bed and-”

“ _Dwight_ ,” Daryl warned.

“Alright, alright,” Dwight lifted his hands in surrender, “I’m just sayin’. ‘Bout damn time.”

“It ain’t like that,” Daryl glared.

“Whatever you say man,” Dwight tone grating on his nerves.

“I may not be her flesh and blood, but I  _do_  see myself as her father-figure,” Morgan gave Dwight a stern look, “I don’t much appreciate you talkin’ about my girl that way.”

“I, uh,” Dwight looked over to Daryl who wore a smirk and fumbled over his words, “Sorry sir.”

“Just don’t let Beth hear ya’ talk that way,” Morgan advised, “She’s liable t’knock you on your ass.”

 “Yes sir,” Dwight nodded.

As much as Daryl enjoyed Dwight’s discomfort for all the times he had been put on the spot by his right hand man, he knew they had more important matters to discuss.

“So,” Morgan’s eyes shifted between the three of them, “What brings you gentlemen here t’see me?”

“Beth told Daryl about The Whisperers,” Rick got straight to the point.

“She said as much,” Morgan sighed dejectedly, “So they really followed us here, huh?”

“Seems so,” Rick replied regretfully, “but we’re not sure.”

“Beth is,” Morgan countered, “If she’s sure, then they’re here.”

“She said you two came across them while travelin’ through the Port Royal area,” Rick began, “but that wasn’t tha’ first time you’ve seen these… _people_ , was it?”

Morgan took a deep breath, “No.”

Daryl scowled, “Beth know this?”

Morgan shook his head.

“Why didn’t you tell ‘er?” Dwight asked, having recovered from his earlier scolding.

“I may not be her daddy, but I assumed that role the moment I helped her out of that shallow grave. This world is…cruel and harsh and I’ve done things…things I’m not proud of, but I  _am_  proud of her. I wasn’t right, wasn’t  _healthy_ , when I met her. She may say I saved her life, but tha’ truth is, after Duane died…after my wife died, I wasn’t livin’. I was barely even ‘ah person anymore. Beth, she brought me back. She made me remember what it was like to  _live_ ,” Morgan reminisced sadly, “She’s saved my life, three times now, and I’ve done tha’ best I can to protect her. She’s been through enough in the short time she remembers. I tried to shelter her from some of tha’ evil out there. I failed my wife…I failed Duane…and now it seems I’ve failed Beth too.”

The room fell silent as the weight of Morgan’s words bore down on them.

Daryl glared down at the floor, mulling over everything he had just been told. He was torn on how he thought he would’ve handled the situation. On one hand, he understood how Morgan felt by wanted to protect Beth from the world, but on the other he trusted Beth’s capabilities of handling whatever the apocalypse threw at them.

“We’re gonna’ figure this out,” Rick said firmly.

“I told Beth tha’ same thing,” Morgan smiled bitterly, “She thinks we should leave.”

Daryl’s head shot up at Morgan’s announcement.

“She didn’t say as much, but I can tell when she’s got an idea ‘bout something,” Morgan continued, “She said us bein’ here jeopardizes your community…and she’s right.”

“What makes you say that?” Rick inquired grimly.

“Those things are out t’get us,” Morgan replied evenly, “No matter the cost or who gets in tha’ way.”

“Why are they so hell bent on you two?” Dwight asked the question that had been bothering Daryl since his conversation when Beth awoke.

“Revenge,” Morgan answered without hesitation.

“Revenge?” Rick repeated.

“Before I met Beth, I killed several of ‘em,” Morgan began, “I was ‘clearing’ walkers back then. It didn’t matter how many there were, I jus’ needed to ‘ _clear_.’ That was the only purpose I had durin’ that time.”

“What happended?” Dwight asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“While I was ‘clearing’ some walkers, one of them pulled a knife on me,” Morgan sighed, “I should’ve known right then and there that somethin’ was wrong, but I wasn’t…I wasn’t in the best frame of mind at the time. I ended up killin’ it, but when I took a closer look, I realized it wasn’t a walker. It was a  _person_ wearin’ a dead man’s face. Not knowin’ what else t’do, I took his body with the rest of the walkers to the pile an’ burn it. ‘Ah few days later, more of them showed up.”

Daryl noticed Morgan’s hand was clenched tightly in his lap and there was a far off look on his face as he spoke.

“They maneuvered through my traps and I knew they was like tha’ one I’d killed the other day. I shot ‘em from tha’ window of the building I was holed up in. Same one you found me in,” he directed towards Rick, “I burned their bodies too. It was about ‘ah week or so later that I woke up to an explosion right outside my building. They’d set ‘ah truck and my all my traps on fire. I could hear them yelling through tha’ building, trying t’find me. It whadn’t safe there anymore…so I left. Used the fire escape, kept to tha’ shadows, and ran into the woods. I found the emergency pack that I’d buried at tha’ base of ‘ah pine tree, started walkin’, and never looked back.”

“But they found you?” Rick leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows on his knees, listening intently.

“Not for ‘ah while. Not until Port Royal,” Morgan sighed wearily.

Silence resumed with a tension so heavy and thick that Daryl felt suffocated by it.

“Beth killed tha’ leader’s brother,” Morgan rasped out, “Happened while I was unconscious after the bridge incident. She’s never told me what happened or how she knows who it was that she killed, no matter how many times I ask, but they’re after her even more than they are me.”

“ _Damn_ …,” Dwight whispered.

“As long as we’re here, we’re endangerin’ your people,” Morgan reiterated what he said Beth had told him.

“Neither one of you are leavin’,” Daryl declared.

The idea that Beth felt it was better for the two of them to leave, rather than stay and let them help, angered him. He had thought that she was finally beginning to trust them, to trust  _him_. Then again, it was Beth. She had always been the type to do whatever she could to keep others from getting hurt. He could only assume that, in her own way, she felt leaving was the best option to keep everyone in Alexandria safe.

“Daryl’s right,” Rick agreed, “You’re in no condition to go anywhere. You’re both here, you’re  _family_ , and we take care of our own.”

“You’d have a better chance killin’ those bastards in here than you would out there,” Dwight added encouragingly.

Morgan took a steadying breath, “I thank you for that.”

“We’ll figure somethin’ out,” Rick reaffirmed, “For now, we’ll keep the gates closed, watch tha’ woods, and see what they do.”

“I’ve got four men along each wall, everyone’s been told that the gate doesn’t open for  _any_  reason, and Sasha and ‘ah few of the other snipers are takin’ turns in the tower,” Dwight announced.

“I’ve talked with Rosita,” Rick added, “She’s got riders taking shifts at the stables for the time being. She also said she’ll have four horses saddled up and ready to go in case of a herd.”

“Eugene’s got everyone in his group workin’ double time on makin’ more ammunition to replenish what we used. He also said he’s gonna’ try t’get a new box filled every week so we’ll have surplus in case of an emergency,” Daryl reported with confidence.

“Good,” Rick breathed, “I’ve contacted Maggie and Glenn. They’re followin’ the same protocol as us.”

“Any word from the Kingdom?” Dwight asked earnestly.

Rick shook his head.

“Somethin’s wrong,” Daryl sneered.

“I know,” Rick heaved, “but we gotta’ worry about our people first.”

While Daryl agreed, that didn’t stop the worry gnawing away at him.

“If we still haven’t heard anything in ‘ah week,” Rick declared, “I want you to go and see what happened.”

Daryl nodded.

“I’ll talk t’Beth when she comes back,” Morgan interjected, “Let her know what’s goin’ on.”

“Sounds good,” Rick acknowledged, “Once we have more of an idea what’s goin’ on out there, we can come up with a strategy.”

“Other than just annihilate tha’ fuckers and be done with ‘em?” Dwight scoffed.

“That’s always an option,” Rick smirked, “but we don’t know how many are out there or where they’re settin’ up camp.”

“They stick close to the dead,” Morgan pointed out, “That’s what keeps them safe.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for any herds nearby then,” Rick stood and placed a hand on Morgan’s shoulder, “We’re gonna’ handle them. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Morgan’s tone sincere, “ _All_  of you.”

“It’s what you do for your family,” Rick stated with a smile.

“I’m gonna’ drop by the gate and check on things there before I head home,” Dwight jerked his thumb in the general direction of the front gate, “Unless we need t’discuss anything else?”

“No,” Rick shook his head, “We’re done here.”

Daryl didn’t have guard duty, but knowing Beth was asleep and vulnerable in his home had him eager to get back.

“I’m gonna’ head out too then,” Daryl stated and turned to follow Dwight.

“Hey Daryl?” Morgan’s voice caused him to pause and look over his shoulder, “Thank you for takin’ care of Beth.”

 He stared at Morgan for a moment before giving him a firm nod and exiting the room.

It was dark outside as he made his way back to his house. Opening the front door as quietly as possible, he slipped out of his boots and ambled across the room. The lights in the kitchen were still on, illuminating the hallway enough for him to see that his bedroom was still closed off from the rest of the house. He placed his hand on the brass knob to his room, slowly twisting it, and opened the door. Beth was still sound asleep, lying in the same position she had been when he’d left her. Gently shutting the door, he grabbed a tattered blanket out of the linen closet in the bathroom, shut off the lights, and headed for the couch.

Slipping off his shirt, opting to leave his jeans on in case Beth woke up during the night, he settled on the couch. Placing his arm behind his head, staring up at the ceiling, he replayed everything Morgan had told them. The discussion had been both disturbing and informative. Seeing Morgan just as anxious as Beth made Daryl feel that perhaps they  _were_ underestimating how dangerous these people were. The Whisperers no longer seemed like just a bunch of desperate, deranged survivors. They were  _targeting_  Beth and Morgan. They had been following them for the past year and it was obvious they had no intention of letting go whatever grudge they held against them.

Forcing his eyes closed, Daryl inhaled deeply, trying to calm his racing thoughts. For the time being, everyone was safe, Alexandria was secure, and they were doing everything they could to prepare for whatever happened next.  If those  _things_  wanted Beth and Morgan, they’d have to get through their walls and past the firing squad to reach them. He had just gotten her back and there was  _no way_  he was going to let anyone take her from him.

_He would do whatever it took to keep her safe._

...

 **A/N:** BIG SHOUT-OUT to  **Sarakaroline8**  for the reminder that Morgan spoke to Rick about “people wearin’ dead people’s faces” in Season 3 Episode 12 titled  _Clear_. Although Morgan was a little unhinged at the time, this is a clear (pun intended) breadcrumb for what’s to come!!  Fun fact: ‘ _Clea_ r’ aired March 3, 2013 and The Whisperers were introduced in comic issue #130.

FYI…the line Morgan says, ‘ _And so the student becomes the master_ ,’ is a reference to  _Star Wars episode IV: A New Hope_  where Obi Wan fights Vader. The actual quote is… "When I left you, I was but the learner. Now Iam the master."

Yes…if you caught it, Beth’s “Oh…” was a nod to episode 4x13 ‘ _Alone_ ’ when Daryl makes an unvoiced confession at the dinner table.

Beth has saved Morgan’s life from himself when they first met, The Whisperers in Port Royal, and in the woods. Thus the three times Morgan refers to in his discussion with Rick, Dwight, and Daryl.


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:**  A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

 **This has NOT been edited!** For those of you living in Texas, all those bad storms with the hail and the tornado warnings you're hearing about for the DFW area...yeah...I'm right in the middle of that! -_- I wanted to go ahead and get this posted in case I lost electricity or have to run for cover! I hope the rest of you guys stay safe! Those not having storms...you lucky ducks...stay safe anyway! XOXO

 **A/N:** To any of my new readers, I have my twitter and tumblr info posted on my profile! Feel free to add me! I love hearing from my readers and have had some great conversations with several of you!

…

Beth jerked awake from where she lay; the demons in her dreams chasing her into consciousness, breathing heavy and disoriented. She immediately reached for the knife that she hid under whatever she used for a pillow while she slept, only to find it missing. Realizing she was in a bed, rather than outside in the woods, her mind slowly became lucid. It was a few seconds later that a familiar scent hit her just as the door to the room burst open.

"Beth?" His voice was rough from sleep.

Taking a deep breath and clenching her shaky hands, Beth turned around to face the doorway.

"Yeah," she tried to force a smile, "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake ya'."

"S'okay," Daryl replied, moving into the room and shutting the door behind him, "You alright?"

Beth slid her legs out from under the covers and braced her elbows on her knees. Wiping the unshed tears from her eyes, she ran her hands through her tousled hair in search of the elastic band that had once tied her blonde strands out of her face while she slept, and took another shaky breath. The bed dipped beside her and she could feel the warmth radiating from Daryl's body. It was only then that she realized he was clad in only a pair of tattered jeans, hanging loosely around his hips, completely shirtless.

"You wanna' talk about it?" Daryl asked beside her.

Biting her bottom lip, not trusting her voice, she shook her head.

They sat in silence and Beth tried to calm her racing heart. She'd had yet another nightmare filled with the dead and those that walked among them. However, this dream had been different than the others. Instead of Morgan being the one she was trying to save…it had been Daryl. She'd been tied to a pole and forced to watch as they slowly peeled the skin from his bones. His screams had been so  _real_. _J_ ust when she thought the nightmare couldn't get any worse; she had been forced to stare into Daryl's face worn by one of  _them_. Instead of the sharp, blue eyes she had become accustom to, dull brown stared back at her. She had screamed so hysterically, that it had brought her into wakefulness and her throat felt raw from exertion.

A gentle pressure against her back reminded her that it had only been a dream.

"You're really  _that_  afraid of 'em, huh?" Daryl inquired, rubbing soothing circles against her back.

Beth clenched her jaw tightly, but didn't reply.

"Morgan said…" Daryl hesitated, "he said you felt like we were underestimatin' them."

"Because you  _are_ ," Beth muttered.

"We're not," Daryl countered, "We've got four men patrollin' each side of tha' wall at all times. We've got riders on call, ready to get out there an' lead a herd away as soon as needed, and Eugene's team is workin' on making extra ammunition. I  _personally_  saw t'that because I know we'll need all tha' bullets we can get."

Beth stared into his eyes for the first time since he'd entered the room.

"Morgan's supposed t'fill you in on all this when you go visit him," Daryl murmured as the weight of his hand felt heavier on her back.

"You talked t'Morgan last night?" Beth questioned, "With Rick?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "Morgan told us what happened with The Whisperers. About when he was out and you guys were holed up in that building?"

"He told you what he  _thinks_  happened," Beth replied sourly.

She could feel Daryl's eyes on her and knew she had backed herself into a corner.

"Then what really happened?" Daryl asked in genuine concern.

Beth opened her mouth as if to speak, but decided against it and tightly pressed her lips back together. Voicing what had happened would require her to relive the experience and that just wasn't something she wanted to do. What she had witnessed…what she had  _done_ …it had left invisible scars across her heart.

"Nothin'," she whispered.

"Bullshit," Daryl scoffed, "How'd you know you killed tha' leader's brother?"

"Does it matter?" Beth sighed resignedly.

"Those fuckers are after  _you_ ," Daryl hissed, "You're damn right it matters."

Gritting her teeth together, she could feel her resolve beginning to crumble.

"What happened?" Daryl asked softly.

Beth exhaled through her nose and closed her eyes.

"Beth," he urged, resting his hand firmly against her back, "Talk t'me. I can't protect you if I don't know everything."

"I never asked for yours or anyone else's  _protection_ ," Beth glared up at him.

"Well you got it all the same," he argued haughtily, "so tell me what happened."

She was well aware that Daryl wasn't the type that liked to tiptoe around a subject. He was straightforward and honest. Those were both qualities she appreciated and thus felt he deserved the same from her, even if doing so made her relive a painful experience that painted her in a different light from the Beth he remembered.

"You asked me, when I first got here, how many people I'd killed," Beth stated.

Daryl nodded and waited for her to explain.

"I said three," she repeated the answer she'd given him nearly two months ago.

"Yeah?" Daryl inquired skeptically.

"I don't consider those  _monsters_  t'be people anymore," she elaborated.

The look of understanding in Daryl's eyes gave her the courage she needed to share what she considered to be her darkest secret.

"I killed the leader's brother," Beth began, "Not because I had to, but because I  _wanted_  to."

Daryl remained silent beside her.

"I'd managed t'drag Morgan into an old apartment buildin' outside of town. He'd been fadin' in and out of consciousness and I knew tha' best thing for him was just t'get some rest. I situated him in room while I kept watch in another so I could keep an eye on tha' woods. I'd rigged tha' way up to the second floor with traps, just like Morgan had taught me, and then stitched up his wound. It was quiet for 'ah few weeks. No movement in the woods, just an occasional walker or two roamin' down tha' street, but nothin' like what we'd come across in Port Royal. I'd try to sleep durin' the day for a few hours, knowin' that if anything was gonna' happen, it would be at night. One evenin', while I was keepin' watch, I guess I dozed off or somethin'," Beth stared down at her hands, fumbling with her elastic hair band, "That's when the first trip wire went off. I have no idea how long I'd been asleep, but when I looked out the window they were  _everywhere_."

"The Whisperers?" Daryl inquired.

"Walkers. I dunno' how many were really people or if they were all corpses. It's impossible t'tell until they actually  _do_  something," Beth clarified, "I remember stumblin' around, trying t'get my body to move. I was so tired and I just couldn't get my body to cooperate with what I wanted it to do. My… _injury_  had been really affectin' me since everything had happened on that bridge. As soon I was out in tha' hallway, I rushed over t'Morgan's room, and that's when I realized…"

"Realized what?" Daryl leaned in closer.

"Morgan wasn't alone," Beth said through clenched teeth, "All of my traps had been triggered, killin' a couple of 'em, but they'd still been able t'get into his room. There was 'ah man standing in the doorway, blocking me from bein' able to get into tha' room, but I could still see inside. Approachin' Morgan's bed, with a knife in their hand, was 'ah  _child_. Both of their faces were covered, but I could tell that the one in tha' room was younger than me… _a lot_  younger than me."

Squeezing her eyes shut, trying to block out the mental images replaying in her mind as she told her story, she abruptly felt as if the walls were closing in around her. Pushing herself off the bed, she hurried to the window and opened the curtains, relishing in the warmth as morning rays of the sun danced across her skin.

"They noticed me and the man jus' turned around and  _stared_ at me. His eyes looked…  _wild_. Not human. He didn't even seem fazed that I had my rifle pointed at him, but I could see how terrified the smaller one was. He was whispering over his shoulder t'the child to 'rip out his heart.' That's when I started begging," she clenched her hands around the windowsill as she continued, "I knew if Morgan woke up, that they'd kill him. I had t'get them away from him. I told them that he was all I had in this world, that he was the closest thing I had to family, and that if they killed Morgan, neither one of them were leavin' that room alive."

She could hear Daryl move from the bed to stand next to her, silently gazing out the window, watching as the people across the street began starting their day.

"Turns out the older man was tha' child's father. She was just as scared as I was an' didn't want to lose one of the only family members she had left. I told her that if they didn't kill Morgan…if they just  _left_ , I would spare them," Beth's voice softened to barely above a whisper, "She put her knife away and started walkin' back toward tha' hallway. She wasn't 'ah killer. She was just 'ah kid. I was so relieved when she reached her dad. I thought we'd all go our separate ways and no one would have t'get hurt."

After several moments of reticence, Daryl asked, "What happened?"

"Her  _father_ , the one person in this entire, screwed up world who was supposed t'protect her," the disgust in her voice increased with every word she spoke, "That bastard  _killed_ her. He moved aside t'let her out of the room, grabbed the back of the mask she was wearin' , and slit her throat without 'ah moment's hesitation. Then he jus'…threw her across the hall like she was trash. I screamed at him, asking him how he could do somethin' like that to his own  _daughter_ , and do you know what he told me?"

Daryl's brows her furrowed and his stare bore into her as he shook his head.

"He told me she was 'weak' and that they 'didn't have room for her kind in their  _family_ ,'" Beth spat, "He said that his sister was the leader, the Alpha, and that it was their  _responsibly_ to weed out the 'unworthy' livin' among them.'"

" _Jesus_ …" Daryl rasped unsteadily.

"I must have woken Morgan up with all my yellin' because I caught a glimpse of him sittin' up in tha' bed. While I was distracted, the Whisperer shoved me aside, and ran. I managed to recover quick enough t'fire my rifle, catchin' him in the leg, but it didn't stop him," Beth felt numb as she continued with her story, "The girl was still alive when I got t'her. He didn't cut deep enough t'kill her. She was jus' laying there, on tha' floor, struggling t'breath and there was nothin' I could do to save her."

"Did you…," he didn't need to finish his sentence for her to know what he was asking.

"She tried sayin' something, but there was so much blood. I tried t'listen, but the more she talked the more gurgled her words became. All I could do was tell her I was sorry," she laughed mirthlessly, "I don't even really know why I was apologizin' to her. I hadn't done anythin' to her, I'd  _tried_  t'get them to leave without havin' to kill them. I gave them an out! They were just supposed t'leave and everything would've been fine."

"That ain't your fault Beth," Daryl's even voice soothed the wounds she had reopened.

"She was so young, she'd been betrayed by the only person she should've been able t'trust, and all I could do was say 'sorry,' before I put a bullet between her eyes," Beth bit out brokenly, "Morgan was in the hallway a second later askin' what was goin' on. I gave him the rifle and told him t'stay in the building. I don't remember much after that. I was just so… _angry_. My body was movin' on its own and everything was red. It was like the world had been doused with blood. The first clear memory I have after that is followin' the trail of blood he'd left behind. He'd tried to hide himself in a group of walkers, but I  _knew_  he was there. I killed all tha' walkers and saved him for last."

She felt Daryl's hand cup her elbow, giving her silent encouragement, and she turned towards him.

"He'd lost quite a bit of blood, but he was still so strong," Beth scowled up at him, "I got 'ah couple of good slices in before he knocked my knife out of my hands. I kicked him in the groin, like Morgan had shown me, and he dropped to his knees. I didn't even bother lookin' for my knife. I jus' shoved him down and…"

She paused, unsure if what she was about to tell him would destroy the only 'relationship' she had with anyone besides Morgan. Not even her father-figure knew the truth about what had happened that night, and here she was, opening herself up to Daryl. It was then that she realized how much she'd come to trust the man standing in front of her.

"I took 'ah rock and bashed his head in," she confessed coldly.

His grip on her elbow tightened, but his expression remained the same. He wasn't judging her, wasn't disappointed, he was just listening to everything she had to say.

"I saw others in the woods. I was ready to kill each and every one of them, but they kept their distance," she informed him bitterly, "I can't imagine what I must've looked like; completely covered in blood, brains, and walker guts. I thought Morgan was gonna' have 'ah heart attack when he saw me, but he didn't. He was so calm. He must've known somethin' horrible had happened because all he wanted was t'know was if I was okay. He didn't start askin' about what had happened until after we'd left tha' building later that night."

"Why haven't you told 'em?" Daryl inquired.

"At first, I wanted t'forget the entire thing had ever happened," she sighed heavily, "Eventually he stopped askin' and we just never talked about it."

She stood before him, waiting for his response, and each moment that passed felt like hours.

"I get it," Daryl finally replied, removing his hold on her elbow and stepping away.

"You do?" She couldn't help the skepticism in her voice.

"Once," Daryl nodded, "Out of anger, grief, whatever tha' hell you wanna' call it."

"What d'you mean?" Beth asked curiously.

"Back at Grady, when we found you, there was this cop," Daryl turned towards the window, "She's tha' one that shot you."

"You killed her," she acknowledged.

"Yeah," his tone dropped several octaves, "I did."

Silence resumed and Beth couldn't help but appreciate the dismal tension between them. She wasn't happy that Daryl had killed someone in the same sort of blind rage she had, but it was something they both shared. There was a difference between killing someone in self-defense and killing someone because they had done something so  _foul_  that they no longer deserved the life they lived. With this knowledge, Beth felt like they had breached the barriers she had so carefully placed, and was heartened by that fact that there was at least one person who understood her. With their shared experience she felt a sort of kinship with Daryl that was completely different from how she felt about Morgan.

"I don't know what you're supposed to say in this sorta' situation," Beth confessed blithely, "Thanks for avengin' me I guess?"

Daryl slanted his eyes towards her and snorted, "I guess."

Feeling a huge weight lift from her shoulders when he smirked at her, Beth couldn't help but smile. She'd been carrying around this dark memory for so long, never talking about it to anyone, and finally having revealed everything was tremendously liberating.

"So those bastards not only saw you kill the brother, but I'm guessin' they think you killed his kid too," Daryl stated, regaining her attention as he crossing his arms over his chest.

Beth's eyes were drawn to the movement and realizing he was still without a shirt, she quickly averted her gaze and cleared her throat, "Uh, yeah."

He must have noticed her awkwardness because after a few moments he moved from his position beside her to his dresser across the room. When he returned, Beth saw him buttoning up one of his flannel shirts out of the corner of her eye.

"S'plains why they're so determined," Daryl muttered as he fastened the last button of his shirt.

"You're gonna' make me tell everyone, aren't you?" She questioned dejectedly.

"Do you want anyone else t'know?" He asked while turning towards her and leaning against the wall.

"No," Beth answered immediately.

"Then we'll keep this between us," he replied coolly.

"Really?" Her gaze met his in surprise.

"You trust me?" He pushed of the wall to stand straight.

There was something in his voice that told Beth there was an underlying meaning to his question. She didn't trust easily. How could she? But there had been something different about Daryl from the start. They had this sort of bond that even though she didn't understand what it meant, it was impossible to ignore. Beth knew that if she and Morgan were ever going to be rid of The Whisperers, she was needed to have  _faith_  in Daryl and the people of Alexandria. She was going to have to  _believe_  that they would be capable of keeping everyone safe. In order to do that, she was going to have to  _trust_  them.

Tilting her head and giving a genuine smile, she replied, "Yeah…I do."

"Good," his voice rough, "That's good."

Her smile still lingering, and reveling in the euphoria of having shared her secret, Beth acted on instinct. Taking a step closer, waiting for Daryl to give any indication he was uncomfortable with their proximity, she tentatively reached her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek into his chest. His hands hovered at her sides as he fumbled to return the gesture.

"Thank you," she murmured softly, inhaling the scent she had begun associating with safety.

His arms slid around her waist, tugging her closer, "Anytime," he whispered into her ear.

Pulling back, sliding her hands to rest his hips, she felt a change in the atmosphere of the room. The air had become dense, hindering her ability to breath, and the light that had barely filled the room only moments before seemed to illuminate everything in a rosy hue. He was staring down at her so intensely that she had to force herself to keep from fidgeting. The same fluttery sensation returned in her stomach and she was sure he would be able feel the perspiration of her hands through his shirt.

"I…uh," she mumbled trying to form a coherent sentence, " _Morgan_ …I should go see Morgan.

He drew his brows together, swallowed audibly, and as soon as he looked away the spell was broken.

"Yeah," Daryl agreed, "He'll be expectin' you."

"Yeah," she echoed and released her hold on him, "Um, thank you. For lettin' me stay here and everything."

"Didn't give me much choice," she could hear the teasing tone in his voice.

"I'll take tha' couch next time," she laughed and realized what she'd just said, "I mean, if I ever fall asleep…here…by accident."

"Its fine," Daryl smirked.

Annoyed with herself for getting so flustered, she pointed towards the door, "I'm jus' gonna' go now."

Daryl nodded, smirk still firmly in place, and she could feel him behind her as he followed her out of the room. She grabbed her things off of his coffee table and when she reached the front door, she turned back to him, giving him another smile.

"Thanks again," she tried to convey her sincerity, "For everything."

"S'nothin'," he shrugged.

Neither spoke as they stared at one another and Beth pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Well," she glanced towards the direction of the med bay, "I'll be seein' you."

She strode down the stairs of his porch and stopped when he called to her as her feet touched the ground.

"Hey Beth?" He inquired while stepping onto the porch.

"Yeah?" She looked over her shoulder at him.

"When I talked t'Eugene the other day, he said they'd gotten the electricity hooked back up at your place," he informed her, "So you won't be in tha' dark anymore."

"Oh, okay," she replied, "Thanks."

She gave him a quick smile and turned to leave.

"You can stay here," his voice called out to her once more, "If ya' want."

The furrow of her brows must have expressed her confusion.

"Morgan's gonna' be in tha' med bay for a lil' while," he continued, "So if you don't wanna' stay up there or be at your place by yourself, you can stay here."

"You don't mind?" She felt the need to ask.

"Nah," Daryl shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets, "I got plenty 'ah room."

Her gaze jumped from Daryl, to his open doorway, and back to him again, "I just might take you up on that then."

He smirked and she gave him a small wave as she exited through the gate of his front yard.

Last night had been the first night she'd actually been able sleep more than a few hours since they'd returned from their encounter in the woods and she'd be lying if she said the idea of sleeping on the flattened mattress or in the plastic chair of the med bay sounded appealing. Regardless, there was no way she was going to go back to their 'residence' and staying by herself. Not now. Not with  _them_  waiting for her and Morgan just outside of the walls.

As she walked down the cracked street, she decided that if Daryl was offering, she would in fact take him up on his proposition. Being around him gave her an odd sense of comfort and right now, that was exactly what she needed.

…

Daryl glanced at the clock ticking loudly on the wall. It was a quarter past five and he needed to get dressed for his shift at the front gate. Throwing the tattered blanket he'd been using the past week, he sat up and stretched his back. Beth had taken him up on his offer and he had insisted that she sleep in his bed, knowing it was far more comfortable than his couch.

It had taken a few days, but they'd finally begun settle into a sort of rhythm. When he had an evening shift at the wall, he would return home to find her in the middle of making them dinner. They'd clean up together, talk briefly about their day, and then he would crash on his couch while she retired to his bed. On the days he didn't have patrol, Daryl would woke up before her, getting an early start to his day. He'd begin making them eggs for breakfast and Beth would join him soon after, never being able to sleep through the sounds of him moving around in the kitchen no matter how quiet he tried to be. She'd sit on one of the barstools and keep him company making small talk until the food was ready. After they'd both eaten, she'd go to the med bay to visit with Morgan, while he would either go to the wall to check on things with Dwight or over to Rick's office to see if there was any news from the other communities. Things had been quiet since Beth and Morgan's run in with The Whisperers out on patrol and still having no word from The Kingdom, Daryl was more than ready to go pay Ezekiel's kingdom a visit.

Tugging on his boots, he stood and glanced around the room for the shirt he'd left discarded on the floor. Picking up the thin material and paused as he began pulling it over his head. He'd already worn the article of clothing for the past two days and it didn't smell as…pleasant as it had when he'd first taken it out of his drawer. Sighing, he made his way across the living room, tossed the shirt into the bathroom, and gently twisted the doorknob to his bedroom. Today was the first day he'd had an early shift since Beth had been staying with him and the thought of getting a change of clothes out ahead of time had never even occurred to him.

When he opened the door, he could faintly make out of the silhouette of Beth, sound asleep in his bed. Her nightmares had seemed to pass, allowing her to sleep through the night, but he didn't want to wake her if he could avoid doing so. Grateful for all the years he'd spent learning how to move silently, he slipped into his room and crept over to his dresser. Opening the drawer slowly, as not to make any noise, he grabbed whichever shirt was lying on top of the stack and shut the drawer. He then stepped lightly across the room towards his door. Just as he was about to be in the clear, a board creaked beneath him as he applied pressure to the floor with his boot. His head whipped towards Beth, but when she didn't stir, he exhaled slowly and lifted his foot to take another step.

"Daryl?" A soft voice rang through the room

 _Shit_.

"Yeah," he whispered, "It's me."

"Everything okay?" He could see her sitting up in the bed, rubbing her eyes.

"Yeah," he shifted toward her, "Jus' needed 'ah shirt."

"Oh," she hummed sleepily, "What time is it?"

Walking towards the bed, he slipped his shirt over his head, "Early. 'Round five-thirty."

His eyes adjusting to the dark, he was able to see her nod a reply.

"You should go back t'sleep," he suggested, "I'll stop by tha' bakery and bring ya' some breakfast when I finish on tha' wall."

"'Kay," she murmured, lying back down and pulling his covers tightly around her.

He took a moment to absorb the surreal scene before him. Beth seemed to have gotten over any of the awkwardness she had initially felt staying with him. They'd shared plenty of conversations since she'd told him about what had  _really_  happened at that apartment building in Fredericksburg, but there something about early morning conversations with Beth, when she wasn't fully awake, that he had grown fond of. She'd been smiling more, talking more, and the more time they spent together, the more he was able to see snippets of the Beth he'd known  _before_ in addition to getting to know the 'new' Beth.

Letting his eyes linger on her a moment long, he turned and quietly left the room, shutting the door behind him. Grabbing his crossbow off the floor beside the couch, he exited his residence and began walking down the dirt road that led from his house to the front gates. Once his shift was over, he'd stop by Rick's office to discuss his trip to The Kingdom, and then go by the bakery to grab the breakfast he'd promised her. Having Beth at his house, waiting for him, was a feeling he still wasn't completely used to. He'd catch himself wanting time to move faster, or trying to finish his tasks quicker, so that he could get back to her. He didn't want to think about how empty his place would feel once Morgan was able to leave the hospital and Beth would return to staying with him, but he knew it was inevitable.

Even though Daryl generally wasn't a selfish person, always feeling the need to put others before himself, it was hard not to be selfish when it came to Beth. She was important to him and there weren't many people left in the world that he allowed himself to cherish. Now that he'd had a taste of what it was like living with Beth, he didn't want it to ever end. For now, he'd just enjoy the time he'd have her all to himself and deal with her leaving when it actually happened. Pushing those thoughts aside, there was one notion that seemed to stick with him.

_Living with Beth was the first time his house had ever truly felt like home._

...

 **A/N:** I'm not gonna' lie...this chapter gave me a fit! It took me 3 or 4 days just to get through the back story segment. I kept having to go back and review my notes to make sure all the little breadcrumbs I've dropped corroborated with the back story. I needed to get that information out there, so that it would be explained why The Whisperers were so determined to get Beth and Morgan, but I really wanted to stop and trash the whole chapter I don't know how many times. I finally wrote a version I was happy with and was able to move on, but this chapter was tough! It got very dark, even with how vague I kept the apartment scene, so I felt ending it with Daryl's scene would leave you guys with a better taste in your mouth. Beth has finally gotten over her trust issues and things with her and Daryl are starting to look up! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:**  A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

 **This has NOT been edited!** It's late and with today being Mother's Day, I didn't get this to Nicole until just a few minutes ago, so she'll have this all fixed up and back to me when she has a chance!

 **A/N:**  To all you mom's out there! Happy Mother's day! I hope your Mother's Day has been a great as mine! Raising kids is NO walk in the park, but it's the most rewarding 'job' in the world! So this chapter is for all of you!

...

Daryl had gotten off his shift at the gate later than anticipated. He'd then stopped by Rick's office, only to have Sherry inform him that the ex-sheriff had left to talk with Rosita about regarding some of the horse's health conditions. He'd told her he'd come back later and to let Rick know he needed to speak with him about The Kingdom. Afterwards he'd stopped by the bakery, as promised, and was walking up the steps of his porch with his crossbow in one hand and a brown, paper bag full of freshly baked muffins in the other.

He paused outside of the front door, glaring over his shoulder towards the front gate. There had been something about the stillness of the woods and the calm of the morning that had frazzled his nerves. All week they had been waiting for  _something_ to happen. It was like constantly having a finger on the trigger, but not knowing where to take aim. It was mentally exhausting. All he wanted to do now was crash on his bed and sleep the rest of the morning.

Taking the bag and clenching it between his teeth, he turned the knob and pushed open his front door. He could hear Beth in the living and he almost called out to her when his voice caught in his throat. Furrowing his brows, slowly removing the bag from between his teeth, he could distinctly hear Beth  _humming_? His eyes found her sitting on the couch, carefully sharpening her machete, while humming the same few bars over and over again. It wasn't the act itself that had his heart beating so erratically, instead it was the melodic tune coming from her that conjured a vivid memory. He could see her sitting on a bench, playing a piano, while he lay in the 'comfiest bed he'd had in years.'

His crossbow clattered onto tile, the bag of muffins long forgotten, as he took two long strides across the floor to approach her. She was standing when he reached her, alarmed at his sudden movement, and he could feel her breath fan across his cheeks from how rapidly she was respiring.

"How d'you know that song?" His voice came out sounding harsher than he'd intended.

"I…I dunno'," she fumbled, starring up at him warily, "I just… _do_."

"I ain't got time for games," he clenched his jaw, not backing away from her.

He saw the spark of anger cross her face as she narrowed her eyes and held her ground.

"I'm not playin' any  _games_ ," she hissed, "What tha' hell is wrong with you all of 'ah sudden?"

"How can you know 'ah fuckin' song and  _not_   _know_  where ya' heard it?" He queried cynically.

"I just know it," she threw her hands into the air, "I just started hummin' it one day and have been ever since. I don't even realize I'm doin' it half tha' time."

Daryl felt his heart sink when the answer she gave him was not the one he'd been envisioning. He was well aware that her lack of memory was due to the irreversible damage she'd received, but he thought her being around him might trigger something. It was foolish to hold out for such hope; he honestly hadn't even realized he'd been doing so until he felt the crushing effect of her reply. He'd recognized that the Beth he had known from  _before_  was gone, her memories taken with the bullet he'd thought had claimed her life, but that didn't necessary mean she wasn't still  _his_ Beth. He'd caught her saying things, doing things, or a certain mannerism that was so distinctly Beth Greene, it  _hurt_. Maybe, somewhere down in her subconscious, she was still there. She just didn't know it.

"If you've got somethin' to say, then just  _say it_ ," she breathed haughtily, obviously annoyed and confused by the intensity of his stare.

"It's…," he paused, "nothin'."

"But you jus'-"

"It don't matter," he gently interjected; hesitantly reaching out for her before dropping his hand back down to his side.

They stared at each other for a long while before she exhaled, plopped by down on the couch, and rigidly resumed grating the whetstone against her blade. He wasn't really sure what he'd been thinking. Maybe that she'd been playing him this whole time? That she did, in fact, have memories from  _before_ , but just didn't want to tell him? Didn't want to continue their relationship from the unknown direction it had been heading? He'd let his own self-conscious fears get the best of him. Anger was easier to grasp onto and direct than uncertainty and apprehension. He knew that Beth wasn't a liar. He was on edge from guard duty and was caught off guard by her murmuring the song he'd heard so often in his dreams that he'd jumped to conclusions.

Quietly striding back towards the doorway, he picked up his crossbow and the muffins, and then turned back to the living room. He gently placed the brown bag on his coffee table, his meager attempt at a peace offering, but Beth's eyes never strayed from her machete. He meandered toward his bedroom, dropping his weapon on the carpet and collapsing onto his bed. The gust of air that surrounded him as he flopped back onto the mattress smelled like her; subtle traces of the mint from the soap Carol had given her and something else that he couldn't quite name.

Things had been going so smoothly the entire week they'd been living together, but with familiarity came the clashing of personalities. He'd been gradually winding himself tighter and tighter from the mounting pressure of their current circumstances. He hadn't been able to leave Alexandria in over a week, something he'd generally do anytime he needed an 'escape.' They still had no idea what had happened to anyone in The Kingdom and then there was everything with Beth and The Whisperers. He'd never been one who handled stress particularly well, always becoming snappy and irritable when he didn't know how to fix something. Then there was Beth. She had none of the demure she'd had  _before_ , speaking with a sharper tongue and refusing to back down from whatever problem she faced. She had always been strong-willed; a fighter in her own right, but  _this_ Beth was a product of the apocalypse.

There was shuffling from within the living room, followed by quick, discreet footsteps, and then the clatter of his front door being opened and slammed shut. It was apparent she was angry with him, justifiably so, as he replayed the way he had exploded on her while she had absolutely no idea why. Gritting his teeth and throwing an arm over his eyes, he growled, and felt his guilt beginning to consume him.

…

"Da…"

He thought he'd heard someone calling his name.

"Daryl?"

"Huh?" Daryl looked up from where he'd been glaring down at the floor.

"You alright man?" Dwight asked with concern etched on his features, "I called your name like, three times 'fore you answered."

"Yeah," he grumbled, "'M fine."

He hadn't seen Beth since early that morning; then again, he hadn't really been looking for her either. He'd been mulling over the hundreds of different things he thought he should say, but knew none of them would actually articulate from his lips when he was in front of her. He wasn't good with reconciliations. He wasn't  _good_  with a lot in regards to the social aspect of life, preferring to let people think whatever they wanted of him, even if it was wrong. He didn't want to do that with Beth. He had to make amends, but he needed to decide on what he was going say when he found her.

"Alright," Dwight gave him a once over before returning to what he had been trying to relay, "There's still radio silence from The Kingdom. By this point, I think it's pretty obvious what happened."

"While I'm inclined t'agree," Rick interjected, "there could still be 'ah perfectly reasonable explanation."

"Like what?" Dwight crossed his arms over his chest, "If the radio broke, they'd of sent 'ah rider. If somethin' had happened, protocol is  _t'send_  ' _ah_   _rider_. Tha' only explanation is that shit went down fast and they didn't have time t'get word out."

Rick took a deep breath.

Daryl knew that the ex-sheriff was hoping this would be something easily explained away, but they all knew better. They knew whatever happened to The Kingdom was bad. Just  _how bad_  had yet to be determined.

"When can you leave?" Rick turned to Daryl.

"Few hours," Daryl shrugged, "Gotta' few things t'take care of, grab some supplies, and load up on some extra ammunition. I can be on my way 'fore sunset."

"I don't like him goin' alone," Dwight voiced from across the room, "'Specially with those bastards hangin' out in tha' woods."

"I can handle it," Daryl scoffed at Dwight's sentiments, "Ain't my first rodeo."

"You're a lucky bastard, I'll give ya' that," Dwight smirked, "but there's no tellin' what's waitin' for you when you get there."

"This is just a recon run," Rick stood from behind his desk, "No heroics. You go, you take 'ah look around, and you get the hell outta' there. You see more than 'ah few walkers, you get out of there. You see  _anything_  that looks suspicious, you get outta' there."

Dwight seemed appeased by this and nodded.

"And if I come across survivors?" Daryl questioned roughly.

"Find out what happened. Help 'em if you can," Rick ordered, "but you make  _damn_  sure that you're able to get back here."

Daryl understood the underlying message. 'No one's life is more important than his own.'

"I'll see what's goin' on and be back in 'ah day or two," Daryl replied with a nod.

"Check in with Sherry before ya' leave," Rick nodded in return.

Leaving the office in the direction of his house, Daryl shoved his hands in his pockets. He was struggling to decide upon one of the five apologies he had created in his head that he would later fumble through with Beth before he left. Dwight was right, he had no idea what was waiting for him at The Kingdom and the last thing he wanted to do was leave things unresolved with Beth.

…

He could hear murmuring behind the half-drawn curtain in the med bay, followed by a feminine laugh that he wholly recognized. Peeking around the drape, he was surprised to find Beth missing from the scene before him.

"Daryl," Carol greeted with a smile.

He flashed his eyes up to hers, but made no effort to draw his lips upwards.

"You getting ready to leave?" She questioned, motioning to the backpack slung over his shoulder.

While Rick was the 'leader' of Alexandria, Daryl being his 'second-in-command,' all of the remaining  _original_ members of their group were privy to the information shared in Rick's office that was of any importance. It was a sort of unspoken agreement. They trusted the people they brought in to Alexandria that had proven themselves worthy, but the sharing of information was done more out of respect for the Atlanta survivors and all they had been through than from distrust of their community.

"Yeah," he nodded, "Just finished up with Sherry and decided t'come' by and see how Morgan was doin'."

"Ah," she gave him a knowing smile, "I'll give you two some privacy then."

Standing, placing her hand on Morgan's clean, bandaged stub, she smiled down at the older man, "I'll go grab us some dinner."

"Did you make more of your chocolate chip cookies?" Morgan's smile widened when Carol nodded in reply.

Daryl watched the interaction with interest. He hadn't seen Carol  _really_  open up to anyone outside of their immediate 'family.' Though he supposed Morgan was now a part of their inner circle due to his connections to Rick and taking care of Beth the past three years. It was comforting to see one of his closest friends so at ease around someone new.

Carol placed her hand on his forearm, giving a tight squeeze as she passed, and then it was just him and Morgan.

"How long 'til doc says you can leave?" Daryl asked while shuffling into the curtained space.

"Few days. I've gotten quite 'ah bit of my strength back with all the rehab they been makin' me do. Really takes a lot outta' you, losin' an arm," he finished cheekily.

Daryl smirked, "I s'pose it does."

A tense silence fell between them and Daryl's gaze wondered around the room.

"She ain't here," Morgan sighed and sat up in the bed.

"I whadn't looking for 'er," Daryl tried to feign nonchalance.

"Listen son," Morgan strained the words as he shifted to hang his feet over the side of the bed, "You can deny it all you want, but you didn't come here t'ask me how I'm feelin'. We all know that if I was doin'  _just fine_  yesterday when you two came t'visit, that it ain't changed in twenty-four hours."

Daryl cleared his throat and swallowed thickly.

"So," Morgan huffed, "What'd you do?"

"How d'you know  _I_  did somethin'?" Daryl growled.

Morgan's chuckle had him narrowing his eyes.

"Because it's  _always_  the man's fault, even when you didn't do 'ah damn thing wrong," Morgan's smile still in place, "Just 'ah fact of life. Sooner you learn that, better off you'll be."

Daryl deflated, wiping a hand down his face, and settling it on his hip.

"Do you know where she is?" He questioned dismally.

"Sorry," he raised his only hand in surrender, "I've been sworn t'secrecy."

Daryl grit his teeth together and exhaled through his nose.

"One place you absolutely  _should not_  look though," Morgan continued cunningly, "is at the stables."

"Why would I-"

"Out of all of tha' places in Alexandria," Morgan interrupted, "there's certainly  _no reason_  for her t'be at tha' stables. She absolutely wouldn't have gone there thinkin' that it'd be tha' last place you'd look for 'er."

Daryl smirked.

He knew Morgan was a smart man; he'd had a good feeling about him since the moment Rick had proven his claim of knowing the ex-sheriff to be true. However, his way of telling Daryl where Beth was, without actually  _telling_ him and breaking whatever promise he'd made to her, only furthered Daryl's appreciation towards the man.

"I'll keep that in mind," Daryl replied perceptively and turned to leave.

"Oh and Daryl," Morgan spoke up, regaining his attention, "Whatever your reasons are, Beth will understand."

Furrowing his brows, not exactly sure what the statement meant, Daryl twisted back around to face the bed.

"John 8:32,'" Morgan quoted reminiscently while staring toward the ceiling, "'And you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.'"

Daryl had never been a religious man, his only true 'churchly experiences' being on Sunday evenings when Hershel gathered everyone into the cafeteria of the prison to read a few verses out of his tattered Bible. Father Gabriel ran the church in Alexandria, but Daryl could never bring himself to attend. He had little respect for the preacher and found it hard to differentiate church from Hershel Greene. He'd read a few pages here and there from the Bible he kept in his dresser, if he had the time, but that was more out of respect for the deceased man who'd had such an important impact on his life than for his own benefit. However, hearing Morgan recite the verse so fondly brought Daryl back to cold, concrete walls and Hershel's steady voice echoing through the empty halls as he read. It was…soothing.

"Tell her tha' truth," Morgan's voice pulled him from his reveries, "She'll understand."

Daryl took a moment to gather his thoughts before finally replying, "I will."

Morgan smiled and held his right hand out toward Daryl.

Stepping forward, Daryl took his hand firmly within his own and shook it twice, before releasing his grip. When Morgan failed to released him, Daryl stood a little straighter.

"You take care 'ah her while you're out there," Morgan requested evenly.

"I'm not bringin' her with me," Daryl replied resolutely.

Slowly releasing Daryl's hand, Morgan shook his head, "She's not gonna' give you 'ah choice."

Daryl moved to speak when Morgan held up a finger.

"If there's one thing I know, it's how stubborn that girl can be when she puts her mind t'somethin'," Morgan was smiling now, "Jus' make sure both 'ah you come back in one piece."

Daryl adjusted the strap of his backpack from where it was cutting into his shoulder. He was intimately familiar with how stubborn the Greene family could be. He had a feeling it all originated from their father as both Maggie and Beth shared the trait as well. However, after their interactions this morning, he felt he'd have better luck talking to a fence post than the blonde. He doubted she'd even acknowledge his presence, much less impose that she was going with him to The Kingdom.

"'Member what I said," Morgan's tone sounded much lighter than it had a moment ago, "Be sure an' avoid them stables."

Daryl snorted and once again turned to leave.

The creaking of the bed told him that Morgan was lying back down as he paused at the edge of the curtain. Daryl had always been blunt, generally too crass, and had no problem with verbalizing what others were too afraid to say. He had in fact come to the med bay hoping to find Beth, and was relieved when he didn't if only because it gave him more time to figure out what it was he needed to say. However, the brief conversation with Morgan had helped alleviate him of most of the uncertainty he'd felt towards the impeding conversation. While Daryl didn't like the feeling of being such an 'open book' he felt gratitude towards the man nonetheless.

Looking over his shoulder, he hoarsely murmured behind him, "Thanks Morgan."

"Don't thank me yet," Morgan snickered, "You've still gotta' try t'work yourself back into her good graces."

Exiting from the billowing, white material, Daryl chuckled and began in the direction of the stables.

…

His boots crunched loudly over the gravel as he approached the open barn doors. White rock gave way to soft, brown mud as he entered the stables and he scanned the dimly lit area for any trace of the petite blonde. He caught of glimpse of her through the metal panels atop the wooden separators towards the back of the stables. Lifting a few fingers in a mock wave to Rosita as he passed, he slowly made his way down the aisle in Beth's direction.

She completely ignored him, feeding hay to a chestnut colored horse, as he leaned on the door of the stall where the animal was confined. There was an uncomfortable silence, filled with only the horse's munching as she thrust another handful of straw in between the metal bars. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, chewing on the side of his cheek, debating on whether he should just tell her he'd be back in a few days and leave or try to explain what had transpired this morning.

"I've sang that song before, haven't I?" Beth's voice was guarded.

He didn't immediately respond, watching her case subtle glances in his direction while she waited for him to speak.

"Yeah," he finally stated quietly.

"Why'd it up upset you so much?" She asked carefully.

"It didn't…," he began before shaking his head, "I dunno'."

She nodded, seeming to accept his reply, but there was still tension in her shoulders.

"I've got 'ah lot…," he exhaled and pushed away from the stall, "I just…I shouldn't have said what I said this mornin'."

"No," Beth shook her head, "If it had been me, I'd of probably been a little freaked out too."

Neither of them spoke while Beth finished feeding the horse. Daryl knew he wouldn't be satisfied leaving things in the air between them and when she turned to him, he knew he had to be as honest with Beth as she had been with him.

Using his index finger to rub circles over the pad of his thumb, he murmured,"With bein' cooped up inside these walls, waitin' for those bastards out there t'do somethin', and then not knowin' what's goin' on with The Kingdom."

Beth's eyes held his and she remained quiet while he continued.

"I took it out on ya' and I shouldn't have," he stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned his back against the stall, "When I heard you hummin', I guess I thought maybe you'd remembered somethin' and you didn't tell me."

"Why wouldn't I tell you?" She raised an eyebrow and cross her arms over her chest.

"That song is tha' one you sang when it was just me an' you," he began, "tha' night before you were taken."

"Okay," she tilted her head perplexedly, "What's that got t'do with it?"

"I dunno'," he huffed, "Nothin'…everything…it was jus' you an' me at tha' mortuary and we…"

Her eyes narrowed, "And we…? What?"

"We got close s'all," Daryl scuffed the heel of his boot against the dirt, "Closer than I was with most of tha' others."

She blinked at him, recognition coloring her features, and she weakly replied, "Oh."

Daryl snorted and stared down at his boots with a smirk plastered on his face.

"What's so funny?" Beth took a step closer to see his face.

He looked up at her, smirk still formed on his lips, and shook his head, "Nothin'."

She furrowed her brows, opening her mouth to say something, before pressing her lips together in a thin line.

Daryl pushed off the wall, keeping his hands in his pockets, and decided to change the subject back to the  _real_  reason he'd been looking for her, "So ya' still pissed with me?"

She breathed in deeply, exhaling slowly, and rolled her eyes, "I wasn't pissed at you. Not really."

His faced must have expressed his incredulity.

"Okay, fine," she waved a hand in the air, "I got pissed at you because you snapped at me and I had no idea why. Then you wouldn't explain what tha' hell you'd gotten so worked up about and ended the conversation without given' me 'ah say on tha' matter. So I left and since you started it, I wasn't gonna' go lookin' for you."

"What changed your mind?" Daryl's gaze drifted between her own and the dirt beneath his boots.

"Carol came in while I was… _explainin'_  everything t'Morgan," Beth admitted with a shrug, "She said you were under a lot 'ah pressure and that I shouldn't take it personally."

Daryl swallowed uncomfortably.

"So I guess it wasn't my hummin' that annoyed you," she was smiling when he looked up at her.

His breath hitched at the memory of her similar statement while they had been at the mortuary together. Sucking in air as inconspicuously as he could, he gave her a sloppy grin and replied, "You ain't so bad."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she nudged him with her elbow.

He stared down into her bright, smiling eyes and his expression fell. She was standing so close to him that all he had to do was bend down, just a little, and they would be touching. She must have noticed the change in his disposition because her smile faltered soon after.

"Daryl?" She whispered his name.

"Yeah?" He breathed.

"Next time you're feelin' like you did this mornin'," her eyes danced between his, "I'll listen. You've earned yourself 'ah couple of vent sessions."

He chuckled and nodded his head, "S'pose I have."

"Good," the corners of her lips lifting once more as she took a step back, "So what's with tha' bike?"

He followed the direction of her stare over his shoulder, "I'm goin' to check things out at The Kingdom."

"By yourself?" Her brows scrunched together as she looked back up at him.

"Yeah," he affirmed, "I should be back in 'ah few days."

"Alright," she hummed, tapping her fingers against her elbow with her arms still crossed, "I have 'ah few things at tha' house I'll need and then we can go."

"We?" He offered amusedly.

"You think you're tha' only one with cabin fever? Bein' stuck inside these walls?" She uncrossed her arms and propped a hand on her hip, "'Sides, I don't care how quiet you can be, it's always better t'have someone watchin' your back."

Daryl smirked to himself remembering Morgan's divination. Beth had absolutely no intention of staying behind while he 'rode off into the sunset' outside of the walls.

"You ever been on 'ah motorcycle before?" He turned and started back towards his bike.

"Not that I can remember," sarcasm dripped from her voice as she followed behind him.

"I'll take ya' for a ride," he tossed over his shoulder as they exited the barn, "Let's get yer' stuff. I told Rick I'd be outta' here before sundown."

"I need t'let Morgan know what I'm doin'," she informed him as they stopped beside his motorcycle.

"Who do you think told me not t'argue with you about wantin' to come with me?" He inquired while grabbing the handles of his bike and hooking the kickstand with the toe of his Red Wing boot in order to lift the metal rod off the ground.

"So  _that's_  how you found me," she huffed exasperatedly.

"Nah," he swung his leg over the bike and sat on the leather seat before returning his gaze to her, "He told me t'avoid the stables."

He couldn't help but laugh at the intensity of her glare.

…

Beth had never felt anything as exhilarating as sitting behind Daryl on the back on his motorcycle. It was as if she were flying from the way the wind blew across her face and through the tendrils of her hair that had worked their way free from her elastic hairband. If she hadn't been so frightened that she would fall off, she would have lifted her arms from where she gripped his leather vest to slice through the cool evening air. She had been apprehensive at first, with how loudly the bike blared down the road, but she soon melted into the heat of Daryl's back and the roar of the machine that carried her.

Daryl had told her that it would take them roughly an hour to get to The Kingdom, as they had to detour around the major cities and highways, but so far they hadn't encountered any obstacles. The sun was beginning to set, bright streaks of orange, auburn, and scarlet filling the sky, and the temperature was already beginning to drop. She burrowed further into Daryl's back to try and block the crisp wind while tightening her grip around soft leather. Her teeth would chatter ever so often and she had long lost the feeling in her legs, but that was nothing new to her. She was convinced it was from the cool temperatures and hour she'd been sitting in the same position, as she was still able to maneuver her fingers, rather than anything to do with her injury.

The bike began to slow as Daryl veered off the road and she untucked herself from behind him to look around. She wasn't familiar with their whereabouts, only aware that The Kingdom was located in Washington D.C., approximately fifteen miles from the Safe-Zone, and that it was based out of an old high school.

"We close?" She whispered after he killed the engine.

"It's 'ah ways down tha' road," he reached behind him as he spoke to help her off the bike.

She stood on shaky legs, holding tightly to his hand as the blood circulated through her limbs. After a moment or two of jiggling her feet and lifting them up to bend her knees, she was able to release his hand and stand on her own.

"I'm gonna' lay tha' bike down in between those cars," he nodded ahead of them, "Anyone comes by, they'll think it's busted an' leave it alone."

"'Kay," she murmured and crept behind him as he pushed it down the road.

They walked in silence and as soon as Daryl had the bike concealed to his satisfaction, he jerked his head for her to follow him. The area was overgrown, Mother Nature pushing through the man-made elements that had once covered her, and the few cars that lined the road were rusty and dilapidated. They had been stripped of anything that could be of use and left to rot. These were things she was used to seeing; however there was something else that had her on edge.

They slunk through the woods as quickly and quietly as possible. She assumed they were nearing the school, as the tree began to thin and cracked concrete covered the ground, but they had yet to come across any people. It was late, and everyone was probably hidden safely behind their walls, but what increased her anxiety more was that the area seemed to be completely devoid of the dead as well. At Alexandria, you could always find at least  _one_  walker shambling around, whether in the woods or around the wall, but they hadn't come across  _anything_  since they'd gotten here.

"Daryl," she stopped walking and looked around.

"Yeah?" She heard him grunt a few steps away.

"Somethin's…off," she rasped as her eyes darted around them frantically.

Her head whipped behind them when the wind blew through the leaves and she was certain she had seen someone dart behind a tree trunk.

"Beth," She could hear him approaching her.

A twig snapped and she jerked her body to the right. She caught what looked like a shadow, though it was hard to tell with how little light was left as the sun had almost completely set.

" _Beth_ ," warm hands grabbed her shoulders.

"What?" She asked through grit teeth.

"It was just tha' wind," he whispered, though his words didn't sound convincing.

"No," she shook her head, " _No_. There's…I saw…"

" _Just_  tha' wind," he repeated thickly.

There was something about the tone of his voice that told her not to argue. It didn't appear like he thought she was seeing things. It was something else. Something that made her even more anxious than she already felt.

She nodded, swallowing air, and pulled on her machete while he removed his crossbow from over his shoulder.

"Should be right up here," he gestured toward the far end of the tree line.

She nodded again, not trusting her voice, as they swiftly crossed the remaining distance.

The world had turned a grayish-blue when they stepped out of the foliage, the visible sliver of the moon barely illuminating the ground below. There were no lights on in the school, no torches lit along the wall, and no voices heard from within. There was just absolute silence.

"This is wrong," She tightened her grip on the handle of her machete and kept her other hand hovering over the pistol holstered on her belt.

"Stay close," he replied without looking back at her.

She ran behind him as he dashed across the pavement towards the front gate. A thick, silver chain with a large lock dangled from the sliding, metal gateway and there were no guards patrolling the area.

"There shoulda' been buses along the inside of tha' wall," Daryl said more to himself than to her as he peered through the slender opening created when he pulled the chain taut.

"I think I can squeeze through," she glanced between him and the narrow gap, "See what's on tha' other side."

The glare he sent her clearly expressed his opposition to her suggestion.

"Then what're we gonna' do?" She grumbled while glancing over her shoulder.

She couldn't shake the eerie feeling that someone was watching them.

"Well go around," he said while moving away from the gate, "See if we can find 'ah place t'climb the wall."

She made no reply and silently walked along the wall behind him. Her hand trembled from how tightly she held the handle protruding from the brace of her machete. She had forgone restraint and pulled her pistol from its holster, gripping it tightly in her left hand, while she kept glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one appeared behind them. Daryl kept his crossbow poised, sweeping it from left to right as they kept their backs to the wall.

While being near a wooded area would generally make Beth feel more comfortable, it was doing quite the opposite at the moment. She kept observing movement within the trees, but could never actually  _see_  anyone. The dim light of the moon was casting distorted shadows and every time she scanned the trees, she expected to see someone staring back at her. The woods were enabling her imagination and increasing her unease with every step she took.

The cool breeze chilled the droplets of sweat forming on her brow and when she licked her lips, she tasted liquid salt. Her vision was slowly beginning to swim and the more she concentrated, the harder it became to focus. She stepped within the footprints that Daryl left behind and so far, they have found no flaw in The Kingdom's walls.

Daryl disappeared around the corner, returning to the front walls, when Beth heard a sound behind her. She spun on her heel, bracing her gun on the metal rod of her machete to steady her hand, and glared into the darkness. She could hear someone…or  _something_  moving through the tall grass, but couldn't make out a figure. Her brain went into overdrive, examining their surroundings and determining that someone could keep themselves concealed by squatting down in the waist high grass, slowly ambling across the ground, and ducking into the woods for cover. It's what she would do if she were stalking someone. The thought sent a chill down her spin and she clenched her teeth together tightly. She couldn't be sure if someone was actually there or if her mind was playing tricks on her, but the shuffling of Daryl's feet as he backtracked towards her seemed to minutely ease her paranoia.

"What is it?" His voice was a low rumble beside her ear.

"Someone's out there," her voice trembled as she spoke.

She felt his hand ghost across her hip as he pulled her behind him. She lowered her gun when he moved in front of her, completely blocking her view, and his hand left her hip to return to the trigger of his crossbow. He then pressed his back into her, forcing her to step backwards, and they continued at a slow pace until they were standing in front of the fastened gate.

"Shoot tha' lock," he instructed, never taking his eyes off the far corner of the wall.

Beth didn't hesitate; firing three quick rounds into the heavy duty lock before it finally fell away from the chain. Any other time she would have been more apprehensive of what could possibly be awaiting them  _inside_  the wall, if not for the growing terror that had long since settled in her gut while being on the outside.

"Got it," Beth rushed as she pulled the chain from the wall and opened the gate enough for them to slip through.

As soon as Daryl stepped within the walls, she pushed the gate shut and pulled down the interior lever, effecting 'relocking' the gate. She took a deep breath, pressing her forehead against the cool metal, feeling a sense of relief from the protection it provided them. When her breathing had evened out, she turned around to find Daryl's form rigid. His broad shoulder obstructed the view directly in front of her and when she stepped around him, she felt her pulse quicken all over again.

There was a bus lodged in the entrance of the school, blood smeared across the yellow paint, and what appeared to be walkers pacing up and down the aisle of the wrecked vehicle. There were no lights…no guards…no  _people_  anywhere. The buses that Daryl claimed to have lined the inner walls were missing and the place looked completely abandoned.

"Daryl," she forced her gaze away from the movement inside the bus to stare up at him.

"Where tha'  _fuck_  is everyone?" He sneered as her peered down the sights of his crossbow.

"I don't know," her voice came out softer than intended as she once again stabilized her pistol against the brace of her machete.

If this was a community like Alexandria, there should have been a healthy number of survivors still dwelling within these walls, finishing up their day while the guards took their post for evening patrols. Stepping up the concrete stairs towards the moaning bus, she had no idea what had happened here, but one thing was explicitly clear.

_The Kingdom was a ghost town._

...

 **A/N:** I wanted to have a little bump in Daryl and Beth's 'relationship' progression. He's stressed and naturally people tend to take out their frustrations on the people they care about. It's just human nature. If their relationship went  _too_ smoothly, it wouldn't seem real. While I want Daryl to appear more settled into apocalyptic life, we still see snippets of him reverting back to the anger we saw in seasons 1 and 2 on the show, so I felt it was important to have those here as well. Thus the beginning scene of this chapter developed from the tension I've been building in the past few chapters. I wanted Daryl's reaction to Beth's humming 'Be Good' to be severe. I don't know anyone who would be like 'oh hey, you remember a song from before you got shot through the head. That's cool.' So there you have it! My thoughts on their little tiff! 

So I dug…and I searched…and I scoured the internet for ANYTHING that might tell me where Hilltop and The Kingdom are located in TWD universe. I managed to find that Hilltop is only supposed to be approximately twenty miles from the ASZ. I decided to go either east or west of Alexandria, making Hilltop either close to Fairfax, VA. or Marlton, MD. (mind you I live in Texas and have no idea about either of these places except for looking at a map). The Kingdom is closer to Alexandria than Hilltop. With no solid map to go by, I decided to work with what I knew. The Kingdom is located in Washington D.C. (which is north of Alexandria) and is based in what used to be a high school. I went to google maps and started looking for high schools in D.C. and tried to pick on that was close to Alexandria and a greater distance from my estimations of Hilltop's location. I settled for St. John's College High School. The layout of the school is somewhat similar to that which we've seen in the comics, which is either on purpose or complete coincidence, and the campus is spread across a thirty acre plot. None of this has anything to do with the story, but I'd just thought people might be interested in locations.

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! Next few will focus on Daryl and Beth so you can all look forward to lots of Bethyl scenes!


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:**  A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

**This has NOT been edited!**

**A/N:** Just a reminder! This will be the  **last**  chapter I post until the  **first Sunday in July**! I will be going on vacation for the first half of June and will need a bit of time to recuperate once I get back home! There is a  _chance_  that I'll be able to get a chapter out towards the end of June, but I don't want to make a promise I can't keep. So you can expect  **chapter 14**  on  **July 5, 2015**. I have a few birthday oneshots I've promised as well so I'll probably use my 'time off' from H.O.P.E. to get those wrote and posted! Hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

…

Beth stood next to Daryl as he glared at the bloodstained, yellow bus. They had checked their immediate area, finding no traces of any  _living_  beings, and were approaching the school when Daryl came to a sudden halt. The undead were all piled in the back of the vehicle, beating on the glass of the emergency exit door, while their moans echoed through the stillness of the night.

Beth's eyes followed Daryl as he stepped away from her, towards the back door, and grasped the lever. There were only a few walkers inside, nothing a single person like she or Daryl couldn't handle, but there was a sense of hesitancy in his posture. The faces of the dead were clearly visible and after a moment of thought, Beth understood his apprehension.

"You knew 'em," she murmured while moving beside him.

The tightening of his jaw and narrowing of his eyes was her answer.

"Let go," she told him, stepping up on her toes to take hold of the handle.

"I can do it," he bit out even as his fingers slackened over the yellow lever.

"I know," she acknowledged quietly, "but you shouldn't have to."

Daryl exhaled loudly, his hand falling to his side, and he walked away from the bus.

Beth glanced over her shoulder, seeing Daryl's back to her from where he stood close to the gate, and refocused her attention on the bus. Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the back door and pulled it open. Leaping back as the corpses tumbled towards the ground, she made quick work putting the dead to rest. Wiping her brow, unsure if it was sweat or blood trickling down her skin, she glanced inside the bus. There were no walkers under the seats and feeling certain it was safe to climb in, she pulled herself in through the back door.

She thoroughly checked each seat, finding duffle bags and other forms of luggage scattered throughout the blood slicked floor. There were far more belongings than that of the few deceased that had been on the bus, which would suggest that some people had possibly escaped, as there were no skeletal remains to be seen. Everything indicated that the residents of The Kingdom had been evacuating, but form what? She was sure there was someone outside the wall, but surely this community could handle  _one_ person.

Much to Beth's dismay, there was nothing on the bus that could tell them what had happened. Walking as far as she could, the front portion of the bus mangle in the concrete and glass of the school's front entry, she turned and strode back to the emergency exit. She was about to hop down when she noticed Daryl kneeling next to the bodies.

"No bite marks. No bullet holes in tha' side of the bus either," he commented as he pushed another body over, "You find anything?"

"Some luggage," she answered as he stood and turned to her, "I didn't feel right goin' through it though."

"None of these people were sick," he informed her, reaching his hands up and bent his fingers several times, beckoning her.

Stepping forward, she felt his hands grasp her waist, as she carefully placed her own on his shoulders to help support her weight. He lifted from the back of the bus and when her feet touched the ground, he didn't immediately release her, too caught up in his thoughts while glaring down towards the twice dead bodies lying at their feet.

"Maybe they died in the crash?" She suggested, her hands sliding down his arms to rest at his elbows.

"Maybe," he mumbled and his hands fell away from her waist.

As his arms slipped from her reach, she felt the sudden urge to look towards the gate.

"Why didn't they send 'ah rider?" Daryl asked rhetorically.

"Daryl," she hissed.

"We have a fuckin' protocol for  _this_  exact reason," he continued angrily.

" _Daryl_ ," she stepped forward and grabbed his wrist.

He stilled in her hold and she was sure the tone of her voice expressed her hysteria.

"Gate," she barely breathed.

A rush of adrenaline shot through her system and the hairs on the back or her neck were standing on end as the gate subtly shook. With Daryl no longer ranting, she could hear a sharp, scraping against metal, as if whoever or whatever was out there were using a knife of some sort to try and pry open the gate. Tiptoeing closer, Daryl following close behind, she was unable to see through the small hole that had held the chain and lock just moments before. The grassy area that had once been visible was blocked by something…or  _someone_.

She felt a pressure on her unbraced wrist and then she was being pulled back. Glancing over her shoulder, Daryl lifted a finger to his lips in a gesture that told her to be quiet, and jerked his head towards the school. Nodding, they crept back towards the bus, stepping over the bodies of the dead and entering through one of the open panels that had seemed to of held a sheet of glass before the bus had crashed into the foyer. Shards crunched under her boots and the scraping of metal could no longer be heard behind them.

"We should wait 'til its light out t'look around," Daryl's voice echoed through the empty halls.

Beth didn't answer, still training all of her senses on the front gate.

"There's 'ah closet up ahead. Should have some supplies in it," Daryl added softly.

Daryl's steps sounded like thunder against the tile of the hallway and Beth couldn't help but wince. Her nerves were shot, muscles tense, and everywhere she looked she expected something to jump out at her. Swallowing, she turned her back to the gate, and trailed behind Daryl's form barely visible in the shadows of the school.

She had lost track of the entrance to the school after the fourth hallway, trusting that Daryl knew his way around the dark corridors. She nearly ran into him, her eyes dissecting every nook and cranny, when he stopped in front of her. His hand hesitated on the handle and he glanced over his shoulder at her. He didn't need to speak for her to know what he was thinking. It had been standard protocol with Morgan that whoever opened the door, the other stood ready with a weapon trained on the entryway for possible assailants waiting on the other side. She quietly pulled her pistol from its holster and leveled the gun between Daryl's shoulder blades, giving him a nod in return. He pulled his knife from his belt and yanked open the door, stepping behind it in an effort to shield himself, as Beth's eyes quickly darted around the small space revealed to her.

"It's clear," she whispered while placing her gun back on her hip.

Daryl stepped around the door, sheathing his knife and thrust his hand into the front pocket of his jeans. Beth waited as he dug around before finally pulling a silver, rectangular object from his jeans.

She squinted her eyes in the dark, "What's that?"

Instead of replying, Daryl flicked his thumb down the thumbwheel several times before it produced a small flame.

"Well that's handy," she blinked to let her eyes adjust to the flame that wavered every time Daryl moved his hand.

"It's just 'ah lighter," he stated while stepping into the closet and holding the appliance in front of the metal shelving.

"Yeah, but there aren't many of 'em left," she replied as she followed him into the room, "that still have fluid anyway."

"Eugene figured out 'ah way t'turn plastic into kerosene," he explained as they searched the shelves, "Built some big ass machine and ended up bein' able t'make somethin' useful outta' all the trash layin' around."

"Well I appreciate havin' light right now," she said while standing on her tiptoes to look over the top shelf, "I thought you said there were supplies in here?"

"S'posed to be," he huffed.

"I got nothin' over here," she lowered herself down on her heels and turned to him.

"I got 'ah busted flashlight," he grumbled and lifted a red tube of plastic towards her.

"You should keep that," she smiled teasingly, "Eugene could use it in his 'big ass machine.'"

Before Daryl could reply there were footsteps down the hallway and Beth froze, smile instantly falling from her face, and her eyes flew towards the open closet door. Daryl flipped the cover to his lighter, effectively snuffing out the small flame, and Beth swallowed air. She could hear him shuffle towards the door, silently pushing it closed, but it was deathly quiet otherwise. As soon as the door met the frame, they were immersed in complete and total darkness. Beth's breath came out unevenly as they waited; listening for any other signs of activity in the corridor.

A door banged in the distance and Beth jumped. Tightening her grip on the handle of her machete, she felt a surge of panic as her stomach plummeted to the floor. Sweat trickled down her neck, into the collar of her flannel shirt, and the lack of visibility made her feel even more vulnerable.

"We're trapped in here," Beth hissed.

"There's too many directions someone could come at us out there," Daryl shot back.

"Then what are we gonna' do?" Her voice a shrill whisper.

They both fell silent and she could feel her anxiety growing.

"I can't lock it from tha' inside," Daryl articulated somewhere in front of her.

She blinked, willing her eyes to adjust to the dark, when a flame reemerged from Daryl's lighter. He stood in front of the door, gripping the handle so tightly that his knuckles had drained of all color, and she took a shaky breath as she tried to think rationally. Looking around for anything they could use to bar the door, Beth reached out for the metal shelving beside her and jarred it back and forth. When it gave under the force she exerted, she unstrapped the brace of her machete and set it on the middle shelf. She then grabbed onto the cold, thin bars that braced the shelves, lifted it from the floor, and pivoted it around to block the doorway. She stopped, allowing Daryl to slide past her, and pushed it against the door. Grabbing her machete, she took the lighter from Daryl and moved out of the way so that he could do the same with the second shelf, effectively securing the only entrance into the closet.

"Ain't as good as 'ah lock, but it's better than nothin'," Daryl stated and dusted off his hands.

Beth handed him the lighter when he stepped beside her.

"What do you think that was?" She asked with her gaze lingering on the door.

She heard him exhale through his nose beside her and she begrudgingly turned away from the door to look up at him.

"I'on know," he replied heavily, "Best if we take turns keepin' watch through the night. Just t'be on tha' safe side."

"You go ahead," she suggested and glared back at the door, "I'm not tired."

She felt his stare before he finally began digging through his pack. She heard a rustle of fabric and then the sound of a zipper. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that he had begun rifling through her backpack, pulling out her blanket and laying it out beside his in the back corner of the room.

"How's tha' brace holdin' up?" He asked as he moved to sit, propping his elbows up on bent knees.

Beth looked down at the forearm machete in her hand and then at her arm.

"Seems fine," she walked to the back of the room and slide down the wall to sit beside him, "Its snug from the padding, but I don't think it'll give me any more bruises."

"Good," his voice sounding deep from exhaustion.

A sort of calm enveloped them and Beth felt herself becoming sluggish as the adrenaline filtered out of her system. Daryl's scent permeated her senses and she could feel his warmth through the thick material of her shirt. Stretching her legs out in front of her, she crossed them at her ankles, and placed her machete on the floor beside her. Pulling her long braid over her shoulder, she pressed the back of her head against the cool wall behind her, and stared up at the shadows flickering across the ceiling.

"If things weren't like they are," she spoke slowly, "what do you think you'd be doin' right now?"

"I dunno'," he answered and she could feel his shoulders brush against hers as he shrugged.

Her head lolled to the side and she gave him a wake smile, "Humor me."

His eyes found hers and the somber look he gave her made her furrow her brows. After several intense moments, Daryl broke eye contact with her and stared towards the door. She kept her gaze on his profile, trying to decipher what his expression had meant, and waited for him to speak.

"I'd probably still be doin' the same ole' shit with my brother," he finally answered.

"Like what?" She probed softly.

"Merle used t'drag me around with him and his gang," Daryl reminisced, "We'd drift from town t'town, raisin' hell, and getting' in all kinds 'ah trouble. I'd work odd jobs and Merle had his…trafficking."

"Trafficking?" She asked inquisitively.

"It's, uh…It don't matter," Daryl glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, "What he did usually got him locked up in tha' pin and I'd hold down a steady job for 'ah while. He'd get out, find me, and it'd start all over again."

"So you'd just up an' leave whenever he showed up?" She questioned while studying his profile.

"Yep," he exhaled.

"He must've been really important t'you then," she murmured and resumed staring up at the ceiling.

"He was," Daryl concurred fondly.

The room was softly lit in an orange hue from the waning flame of Daryl's lighter. She watched him switch the silver object to his other hand, working the thumb that he'd used to relentlessly strike the thumbwheel until a flame erupted, and debated whether it would be too forward of her to take his hand in an effort to help alleviate the ache he seemed to be feeling. When he began shaking his hand violently in the air, attempting to get the blood flowing back into the appendage, she was resolved in her decision. She figured if he could hold her while she drenched his shirt with tears on an uncomfortable hospital bed, or soothe her after a particularly unsettling nightmare, the least she could do was try to ease the discomfort in his hand. Reaching out with steady hands, she grasped his wrist and brought it in front of her. He went rigid for a moment before he relaxed into her ministrations.

"What happened to him?" She inquired, rubbing soothing circles over his palm with her thumbs.

Daryl looked down, letting his chin rest against his chest, and took a deep breath. It wasn't until his eyes closed that he began to speak.

"The man who took down tha' prison," his nostrils flared and he grit is teeth, "Merle went out on his own t'try and stop him. Guess he decided he'd done enough bad shit in his life and wanted to make things right."

Her hands paused and tightened around his warm palm.

"I's tha' one who found him," he exhaled heavily and she could barely see his deep blue eyes through the fringe of his hair, "He'd been he shot through tha' chest and left t'turn. I took care of 'em. Brought him back to tha' prison and buried him further down from tha' rest of our dead."

Daryl's usually steady, raspy voice sounded strained. She couldn't remember what it felt like to lose someone, but she was could imagine the heartbreak from how close she'd been to losing Morgan a few weeks ago. Releasing his hand, she pulled her knees underneath her and turned to wrap her arms around his taunt shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she whispered into his neck.

She scooted closer when she felt his arm wrap around her waist, his other hand still holding the lighter, and rested her head against his shoulder. After a few moments, she moved to pull away, but his arm held her firmly in place. He didn't look up at her, but she took the gesture as a request for her to stay. Dropping her arms to wrap loosely around his middle, she rested her cheek over his steady heartbeat, and succumbed to the safety he yielded her in their foreign environment.

Her eyes focused on the small flame dancing around the top of the lighter and she breathed in the scent that had been lulling her to sleep for the past week. Her eyes began to flutter close, her legs stretching out to the side while getting more comfortable, and she wasn't sure if she was dreaming when she felt Daryl grazing his calloused fingers across the exposed skin of her lower back. It was the most intimate position she'd been in with a person, but somehow, with Daryl holding her in the small confines of the supply closet, she knew she was right where she belonged. Her body felt light, her breathing deep and even, and just like that, Beth fell asleep in Daryl's arms.

…

Daryl's eyes cracked open to a bright light creeping under the barricaded closet door. His neck was stiff from sleeping propped up against the wall and there was a weight pressed against him that his sleep addled mind couldn't explain. He furrowed his brows and pressed his eyes tightly shut, willing the haze of sleep to clear. He twitched a finger, his brain lazily requesting its assistance to rub his eyes, but his hand refused to disentangle itself from something soft and warm. Opening his eyes, he looked down to find Beth slung across his torso, her head resting on stomach while her arms were wrapped around him as if he were her pillow. One of his hands was buried in her blonde tresses while his other extended across the length of her back. He slowly withdrew his fingers from his hair, trying carefully to keep from disarranging her intricate braid.

With his hand now free, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and down the length of his face. He wanted badly to use his arm and push himself up higher along the wall. His back ached and his legs were numb from sitting on the hard floor all night. Glaring into the sunlight he realized how quiet it was, devoid of the sounds of birds or the morning bustle he was used to hearing within the walls of Alexandria. While Daryl preferred the serenity of the woods, the stillness of The Kingdom was unnerving.

Daryl eyes dropped from the door back to Beth sleeping soundly against him. As much as he hated to wake her, the ache in his neck and back had become too painful to ignore. He withdrew his arm from where it rested at the hem of her shirt and placed both of his palms against the floor while gently pushing himself to sit up straighter. The moment he moved, Beth's eyes snapped open, blinding reaching for the knife he knew she slept with under her pillow while she slept.

"It's jus' me," he whispered hoarsely.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and swiping her long bangs out of her face.

"Mornin'," Beth mumbled as she blinked languidly.

Daryl smirked, "Mornin'."

She looked around the room, focusing on the door for a moment before looking back at him, "So much for one of us keepin' watch."

"Yeah-"

Anything Daryl had planned to say after that died on his lips when a thunderous crash caught both their attention. The sound of someone running rebounded through the hall and a shadow flickered through the sunlight as whoever it was sped past the closet door.

"I  _knew_  we weren't alone," Beth hissed, grabbing her discarded machete and strapping it onto her arm.

Daryl was on his feet far too quickly then he would've liked. His skin felt as if it were being pricked by thousands of needles as blood circulated through his legs. He bent down and picked up his crossbow, slinging his pack over his shoulder, and moved to the door. They hastily removed the two metal shelves and Daryl gripped the handle of the door. He glanced over his shoulder, much as he had done when they entered the closet, and saw that Beth already had her pistol aimed and finger on the trigger.

Twisting the handle, he pulled the door open as quietly as possible, readying himself for the deafening sounds of Beth's gun. When silence followed and Beth shook her head, a signal he took to mean as the doorway was clear; he stepped around the hinged metal and peered out of the closet. The hallway, lit by the sun beaming through the tall windows at lined the walls, was empty. He debated on whether they should stay in the fragile security the closet offered them for a little while longer or take their chances in the school. Minus the walkers in the wrecked bus, they had absolutely no idea what had happened to The Kingdom, and Daryl  _needed_  to know. If there was something out there that frightened Ezekiel enough to evacuate his community and flee the safely of their homes, the same threat could beset Alexandria. Daryl knew he would never be able to live with himself if something happened to his community without him at least  _trying_  to unravel what had occurred within The Kingdom.

"C'mon," he gestured with his crossbow raised, "Ezekiel's office is down this 'ah way."

Beth didn't reply, but her boots 'clicking' against the tile informed him that she was following closely behind.

Daryl checked before turning down another corridor, taking them back towards the entrance of the school. Ezekiel had commandeered the principal's office as his own and thus Daryl felt it only logical to begin their search there. He stopped at the end of the hallway, sneaking a quick look around the corner into the large space that had once been the foyer of the school. Finding it clear, he gestured for Beth to follow him, while he led them to the office wing of the school.

Pulling open the glass door, reinforced on the inside by tin and particle board, they entered the office and Daryl's eyes immediately scanned their surroundings for any threats. With no one in their immediate vicinity, they thoroughly inspected each room, shutting doors and checking behind desks until they both agreed the area was safe enough to search.

"What're we lookin' for?" Beth asked as she followed him back towards Ezekiel's office.

"I dunno'," Daryl answered honestly, "Guess we'll know it when we see it."

" _Great_ ," Beth huffed behind him.

Daryl smirked at her cynicism and opened the door to the 'Principal's Office.' He had been to The Kingdom a handful of times, always discussing matters in Ezekiel's office, so he immediately noticed one important item missing from a small table in the far corner of the office.

"Tha' radio's gone," he spoke sharply as he strode across the room.

"What?" Beth asked; looking up from the papers she was sifting through.

"Ezekiel had it right here," Daryl gestured down towards the tabletop.

"Maybe it's in another one of the offices?" Beth offered.

Daryl scanned the room, finding no trace of the radio, and replied, "Look through tha' filing cabinet. See if you can find anything. I'm gonna' check the other rooms for tha' radio."

Beth nodded and moved to the tall, black cabinet behind Ezekiel's desk.

Daryl exited the 'Principal's Office' and opened the door to the room down the hall. The room was barren of anything save a desk and a rolling chair. The next room held much of the same. It wasn't until he got to the assistant principal's office towards the front of the office wing that he found anything useful.

"Beth," he called over his shoulder.

"Yeah?" Her voice sounded from down the short hallway.

"C'mere," he hollered, "Found somethin'."

Beth entered the room a moment later and stood beside him.

Daryl's gaze never left the dry erase board in front of them. A message was left for Rick in short, choppy sentences and he let his eyes drift over the letters written in purple ink once more.

_Rick,_

_The Kingdom's been compromised. Taking buses to a secure location. Radio is secure. Will contact you when it's safe._

_They have eyes everywhere. Don't trust anyone!_

_-Ezekiel_

"You think he's talkin' about The Whisperers?" Beth's voice sounded weak to his ears.

"No tellin'," Daryl grumbled, "Safe t'assume so though."

"They should've been safe inside tha' walls," Beth propped a hand on her hip, "It makes no sense for them t'leave."

"'They have eyes everywhere,'" Daryl reread the sentence aloud.

Daryl noticed Beth's hand drift from her hip to her side; aware of the scarring tissue underneath the material of her shirt.

"We should check tha' classrooms," Daryl announced, forcing his eyes away from her abdomen, "Might be another message somewhere."

Daryl followed Beth out of the assistant principal's office, towards the reinforced glass door they had entered through, and paused as he pushed open the door for her. When there were no sounds that indicated someone was nearby, they exited the office wing into the foyer.

"Stick close t'me," he spoke in hushed tones, "whoever we heard could still be nearby."

"And you wanted to come here alone," she rolled her eyes, "I came t'watch your back and that's exactly what I'm gonna' do. I'll be right behind you."

Daryl huffed a laugh, "'Preciate it."

Beth titled her head and smirked.

Raising his crossbow, he turned his attention back to the empty foyer, and began moving silently into the darkness. They had found nothing that specified how long ago the community had been abandoned, where they went, or what had caused them to leave. He could only hope that they'd find something elsewhere to fill in some of those blanks. Then there was the impending threat awaiting them outside the walls while another had hidden themselves within The Kingdom, assuming they were two separate entities.

He had so many questions, even more theories, and none of them were promising. He needed to find out what happened so that he knew what they were up against. The Whisperers were out there, but he had no idea what else loomed in the shadows. Daryl knew they should pack up and go back to Alexandria before the sun set, that they  _should've_  left the moment he noticed someone had been following them in the woods, but he was determined to find out what had happened to Michonne and the others. The ominous message Ezekiel had left for Rick didn't rest well with him and he could only assume the worst since they had yet to make contact via radio.

Glancing over his shoulder, he took comfort in the fact that Beth had given him no choice in bringing her along. He was used to working alone and while he had survived some particularity sketchy situations, having Beth there with him bolstered his confidence. She wasn't quite the seasoned tracker that he was, but she was light on her feet and he had to admit that she retained for more stealth than anyone else in Alexandria. She'd proven she could handle herself, she was a sure shot and lethal with her machete, and she was absolutely determined to keep those she cared about away from harm.

She had always been strong, he'd seen that, but he had discerned a different kind of strength radiating from her since her return. Rick had been right when he said that she was a survivor. She'd survived death, waking to a world of chaos, and persevered despite the hindrances of her injury. Maybe he didn't have to fear losing her again. Maybe he could trust that she would always come back. Maybe Daryl had a chance at the happiness he'd tasted back at the mortuary.

_If he was the 'last man standing,' maybe Beth would be there standing with him._

…

 **A/N:** Yes…you can actually turn wasted plastic (water bottles, milk jugs, ziplock bags, etc.) into kerosene. You'd have to build a CP (Catalytic Pyrolysis) machine, but I don't foresee Eugene being unable to do something like that should they be able to find the appropriate parts. Kerosene is a viable alternative to the fluid used in lighters. It's not as volatile as alcohol or gasoline (which I would never suggest using in a lighter), but once you get it to light it should burn as effectively as the lighter fluid provided by companies to refill a lighter. Something to remember for all my 'prepper' readers who weren't aware of this little factoid! : )

So while this is a fictional story, you guys should know by now how I like to keep everything grounded in fact (or as close to as possible). I've had a few people inquire about Beth's memory situation so I decided to leave a brief author's note with a source to the information. Beth has what would probably be categorized as retrograde amnesia (There are two types of amnesia - retrograde and antegrade. Retrograde amnesia occurs when people are not able to remember their old memories.) Her  **semantic memory**  is intact (which explains why she is able to identify objects and how they work, read, write, and do everything else you learn through personal experience), however she has no memory of  _how_  she learned or knows about the things that are common knowledge. Her  **episodic memory**  (autobiographical events such as times, places, associated emotions, and other contextual who (familiar faces), what, when, where, why knowledge) was severely affected which is why she can't remember who anyone is or what happened prior to her injury. Again…I'm not a doctor or in the medical field. I've researched on several sights and it might not be textbook accurate, but this is a fictional story so I just do the best I can! Let me know what you guys thought of the chapter and I'll miss you all while I'm on vacation! XOXO

_**[Source](http://www.human-memory.net/disorders_retrograde.html) ** _

(The link should take you to 'Retrograde Amnesia – Memory Disorders')


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:**  A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

 **A/N:** _I'm baaaaccckkkk_! I missed you guys! I had an absolutely AMAZING time on vacation, but I'm happy to be home! I really missed my Texas skies! I have reviews I haven't replied to, but I promise I will get to them! I was a lot busier than I thought I would be when I got home. Literally didn't touch my laptop for nearly the entire month of June! I have 2 prompt requests that I will be working on getting out this month (July) in between H.O.P.E. chapters.

I have a quick special request! Nicole cut herself pretty bad yesterday, had to get stitches and the whole shebang, so if you could keep her in your thoughts for a speedy recovery, I'd appreciate it! Hope you guys had an awesome (and safe) Fourth of July!

…

Beth followed Daryl down the dark corridors of the abandoned Kingdom. The stray beams of sunlight streaming in through sparsely spaced windows cast eerie shadows and Beth's hand had long since begun aching from how tightly she clinched the grip of her machete.

"Few more rooms and we'll call it," Daryl whispered over his shoulder.

They had searched the entire right wing of the school, hoping to find anything regarding Ezekiel's departure, but there had been nothing. The school looked like it had been ransacked; articles of clothing littered the floor of various rooms they had searched, unfinished food sat out on tables, and the shelves had been emptied of their contents. It was obvious that whatever had transpired had happened unexpectedly.

They entered yet another classroom that had been turned into someone's 'home.' The beds were unmade, there was a suitcase open on the floor, and from the looks of the toys scattered about, a child had resided in the quarters they were currently searching. Bending down, Beth picked up a stuffed rabbit off of the floor. It was missing an ear, its glass eyes were chipped and scratched, and its cream fur was matted and caked with mud and a crimson colored substance. Beth immediately recognized the sight of blood when she saw it.

"Find somethin'?" Daryl asked from across the room.

Beth stared down at the rabbit a moment longer before letting it slip from her grasp. The sight of blood was never a good sign, but she desperately hoped the child had survived whatever had occurred.

"No," Beth said when she finally took her eyes off of the stuffed animal, "You?"

"They left in a rush," Daryl shrugged, "There's blood all over tha' place. Nothin' that can tell us anything though."

"You think they made it?" The words left her mouth before she even realized she had voiced her question.

Daryl didn't immediately reply and Beth noted that his attention focused on a particular spot on the floor.

"Can't say for sure," he said hoarsely, "Ain't seen no bodies, but that don't mean much nowadays. There's not enough blood for someone t'have died in here."

"I think they made it," she lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and stepped away from the stuffed animal.

Daryl's smirk made her furrow her brows.

"What?" She asked defensively.

"Nothin'," he shook his head, smirk still in place, "That's jus' something only you would say."

It took Beth a moment to realize what he was saying, but when she finally connected the dots, a smile broke out across her face.

In the beginning she had wanted nothing to do with anyone who had known her from before. It had been more out of fear that she wouldn't be the same person they wanted her to be, that they  _expected_  her to be, but the longer she was around Daryl, the more she found herself wishing she could be the girl he remembered. He had obviously cared for her, trusted her, and she had known him on a different level than she did now. It was a curious thing, referring to herself as a different person, but that was her harsh reality. However it was moments like this, where she did something or said something that 'only she would say' that made her feel like she was the same person he had hoped for when she met him in front of the gates of the Alexandria Safe Zone.

"I don't think we're gonna' find anything in this room," Daryl sighed while slamming one of the desk drawers he'd been searching closed and breaking Beth of her thoughts.

"I don't think we're gonna' find anything  _anywhere_ ," Beth huffed and used her free hand to brush the loose strands of her braid away from her face.

"I'm startin' to think you're right," Daryl murmured while glancing around the room.

"If we weren't being stalked, I'd suggest we split up," Beth stated while rifling through the suitcase that lay open on the floor in between two twin sized beds, "We'd cut our time here in half and be on our way back to Alexandria 'ah hell of a lot faster."

She didn't think there was any real danger just being across the hallway from each other. They were both capable and it wasn't such a long distance that they couldn't still come to the other's aide should something actually occur, but the noises they had heard last night and the footsteps earlier that morning were clear indicators that someone or something was still in the building with them.

"If it were just walkers, we'd already be searchin' separately," Daryl agreed and turned towards the door, "but we don't know what's in here with us."

"I do," Beth countered, dusting off her hands and standing from her crouched position, finding nothing of use in the suitcase.

She held Daryl's gaze until he looked away.

"Come'on," he gestured towards the door, "We got another hallway t'search after this'n."

Beth followed him out the door, taking one last glance at the abandoned toy laying on the ground, and stopped a few steps away. She ignored the way Daryl was looking at her, spun on her heel, and scooped up the stuffed rabbit before shoving it into her backpack.

"For when we find them," Beth explained, "Its owner probably misses it."

Daryl's eyes softened and the look he gave her caused her heart to flutter while her stomach started doing flips.

He made no comment, but his eyes never left her as she approached him. He towered over her, his broad shoulders blocking her view of the door behind them, and the intensity of his gaze sent chills across her skin. A familiar warmth slipped around her hand and she glanced down when she felt the tough skin of his calloused palm brush against her own as he interlaced their fingers. When she looked back up towards his face, she was greeted with a smirk that was closer to a smile, before he gently tugged on her hand.

"Let's go," he said quietly and turned to face the door.

The safety Beth felt in the room vanished the moment he opened the door, but she wasn't as on edge as she had been before. There was a sense of security from holding Daryl's hand and she waited behind him while he checked the hallway. When he was sure they were in the clear, his fingers tightened around hers, and she quickly returned the gesture. She felt safe with Daryl, regardless of their surroundings, and she realized then that if he asked her, she would follow him anywhere.

…

Beth winced as Daryl threw a large binder onto the floor. They had spent the past hour or so sneaking around hallways, checking each room before they could actually search it, and they had yet to find anything that would help them uncover what had happened in The Kingdom.

"You've got t'be fuckin' kidding me," Daryl spat in frustration as he paced around the back of the room, "The buses are gone 'cept the one we found out front full 'ah walkers, all their shit is everywhere, and all we got was 'ah short note Ezekiel scribbled on a dry erase board that tells us absolutely  _nothin'_."

"There's still two rooms left," Beth tried to sound encouraging.

"This was 'ah waste of fuckin' time," Daryl pulled another binder off the bookshelf, flipped it open, and tossed it onto the floor with the others.

"Alright," Beth took a deep breath, "We've got two rooms left. I'm going to go search them while you finish up with that bookcase."

Daryl stopped rummaging through the bookcase to glare at her.

"I will  _literally_  be on the other side of the wall," Beth continued, "If I need you, you can be there in like two seconds."

"We should stick together," Daryl adjusted the strap of his crossbow as he spoke.

"We've already checked all the rooms," Beth replied, "If there was something coming after us, we should've ran into them by now."

"Or they could be waitin' for us to split up," Daryl argued.

"I can handle myself," she checked the straps of her machete to emphasize her point.

She could see the muscles in his jaw clenching as he exhaled through his nose.

"Fine," he grumbled, "but if  _anything_  seems off, you call me."

"Yes Mr. Dixon," she made a mock salute and twisted back towards the door, but not before catching the look on Daryl's face.

Deciding not to linger and give him time to change his mind, Beth pulled opened the door, quickly scanned the hallway, and exited the room. She tiptoed quietly down the corridor towards the next classroom. Twisting the knob, she peered into the room, checking to make sure it was still empty, before entering and shutting the door behind her.

"Let's see," she murmured to herself while stepping into the center of the room.

This room was more organized than most of the others they had searched. The bed was made, papers were stacked neatly on a small school desk, and the only articles of clothing in sight were piled in the back corner of the room. Deciding to start with the stack of papers, she sifted through them, looking for anything that could possibly pertain to The Kingdom's evacuation. Next she moved to the pile of clothes, finding nothing except tattered blue jeans and discolored shirts that reeked of week old sweat. Exhaling loudly, blowing loose strand of hair out of her face, she let her eyes wonder around the room, noticing something sticking out from under the mattress of the bed.

When she reached the side of the bed, she used her machete to act as a lever and propped the mattress up away from the frame. With her free hand, she grasped the corner she had seen and pulled out a small, leather book. Removing her machete, the mattress fell back into place as a cloud of dust filtered up from the worn cushion. Waving the particles out of her face, she stepped closer to the windows and inspected the book in her hands. The corners of the book were plated with some sort of metallic cover, for what she assumed was to keep the leather from wearing away. There were engravings on the front cover that had long since lost the colored ink that had once filled the indentations. From the looks of the pages jutting out every which way, there were sheets of paper that were not original to the book stuffed inside. Carefully opening the book, she read a short inscription wrote in an unfamiliar handwriting.

_Property of: Benjamin Evans_

Flipping to the next page, Beth read over the semi-legible handwriting. She learned he had been a guard in charge of keeping the main route from Alexandria to Hilltop Colony safe and 'clean' for five miles. She skipped over several pages and began reading once more. According to this passage, Benjamin had moved to The Kingdom and took a position to guard along the wall in order to stay close to a girl he'd met while visiting The Kingdom. Skimming several more pages she read over the horrors of the Saviors and that Benjamin was promoted to 'Head of Security' after the previous man named Richard was killed during the war with the Saviors.

"Holy shit," Beth said aloud, "I found something."

There was a click behind her and she turned expecting to see Daryl.

"I found a journal…," She trailed off when she stared at the open doorway.

"Daryl?" She called in a harsh whisper.

Receiving no response, Beth slid her backpack off of her shoulder and stuffed the journal inside, never taking her eyes off of the doorway. Zipping the seam closed, she used her foot to kick the backpack against the wall and crept towards the door. Her heart had begun hammering in her chest, she could feel adrenaline slowly creeping into her system, and while she tried to keep her breathing even, it was only coming to her in unsteady pants.

"Daryl?" She called softer than before.

Utter silence greeted her.

The door had only been cracked open and any other time she might have thought that the latch hadn't fully caught in the jam. However, she had been stalked outside the wall, they had heard someone slamming a door the night before, and the footsteps running down the hallway that morning all pointed to one conclusion; someone had opened the door.

Standing a few feet away from the door, she stretched her sheathed hand, recoiling each finger individually around the grip to her machete and inhaled deeply through her nose. Pulling her pistol from its holster, she aimed ahead of her and used the blade of her machete to push open the door. She held her breath, waiting for the inevitable, but the hallway was empty. She tightened her jaw, refusing to let her guard down, and kicked the door closed in order to check if someone was waiting behind it. The corridor showed no other signs of life.

"What tha' hell?" She hissed and holstered her pistol.

Her eyes ran the length of the hallway in both directions, but there didn't appear to be anything out of the ordinary. All the doors were closed, exactly as she and Daryl had left them, there were no visible traces that anyone else was nearby, but she just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. She kept her grip tight on her machete, as she turned away from the room she had been searching, in order to return to Daryl. She had found a journal, which was more than they had even if it turned out useless, it was  _something_.

Reaching for the doorknob to the room she had left Daryl to search, she heard a rustling behind her and turned just in time to see a blade coming down on her. She lifted her braced arm, praying the blade wouldn't slice through the metal, in order to shield herself.

"DARYL!" She managed to scream as the blade came upon her once more.

…

Daryl's blood ran cold at the sound of his name being screamed in the hallway followed by the clashing of metal. Yanking the strap of his crossbow off of his shoulder, he rushed to the door and wrenched it open, throwing caution to the wind. Beth had  _screamed_  his name. She needed him. His regard for his own safety was nonexistent because Beth was in trouble. Nothing else mattered.

He aimed his crossbow in the direction of the ruckus, expecting to see a walker or someone dressed as a walker, but the reality was neither of those. He stood frozen in place, watching sparks fly each time the two blades clashed, and he knew that if either of them landed a single blow, it would prove fatal. Dropping his crossbow to the floor, he ran towards the two bodies, but was unable to come between them.

"Michonne!" Daryl yelled when her blade nearly sliced across Beth's face, "Michonne! Stop!"

"You're dead," Michonne's voice came out sounding somewhat deranged, "I helped them bury you. You're dead. You're  _dead_.  _You're_   _dead_."

"Michonne," Daryl tried again, "It's me. It's Daryl. Jus'  _look at me_."

"You're not real," Michonne sneered, "You're not  _real_."

"Daryl," Beth called to him in a strangled tone, "If you don't stop her…"

She didn't have to finish her sentence for Daryl to understand. If he couldn't get Michonne to yield in her assault, it was going to come down to Beth's life or Michonne's. Beth was holding her own against Michonne, but he immediately recognized how she had pulled back the moment Daryl had called the older woman's name. Beth was only playing defense, blocking and countering strikes as they landed, but never making any moves of her own.

"Michonne," Daryl inched forward while still trying to stay clear of the blades slicing through the air, "She's not  _dead_  damnit! Look at her face!"

"They wear the faces of the dead," Michonne replied and took advantage of Beth's hesitancy, catching her on the shoulder, "Beth is  _dead_. I saw her body. We buried her in the ground. They're wearing her face."

Daryl clenched his fists and was at a total loss as to what to do to get through to Michonne. It was obvious she'd come across The Whisperers and Michonne had been there when they buried Beth next to Bob's grave. How was he supposed to explain to Michonne, who obviously wasn't in the right state of mind, that Beth hadn't been dead? That she had literally come back from the grave and was alive and breathing?

"Daryl," Beth heaved between breathes, "I'm numb."

Daryl felt panic rising through his chest. He remembered the conversations he'd had with Morgan and Beth about her condition. It wouldn't be long before Beth's body shut down on her and she wouldn't be able to keep up with Michonne's onslaught. He had to do something. He was just about to run back for his crossbow when Michonne kicked her foot out, hitting Beth square in the stomach and launching her back against the painted, brick wall of the hallway. Daryl rushed forward, but his sudden movement had gained Michonne's attention and instead of the blade being slashed towards Beth, it was now veering in his direction.

" _Shit_ ," he cursed when the blade stopped inches from his face.

His vision focused of the flat side of Beth's machete, which had been thrust between himself and the katana, before it was thrust upwards and Michonne stumbled on her feet. Daryl immediately lunged for Michonne's katana and they both fell to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs. Michonne scrambled for her katana, but Daryl kept a strong hold around her waist and after several minutes of struggling, the sword wielder finally gave up.

Beth slid down the wall, her head lolling to one side, and Daryl feared she had passed out until he saw her reach for her shoulder. Michonne's breathing was beginning to level out and Daryl slackened his grip. Before he could move, Michonne had grabbed the knife on his belt and was standing over him when the distinctive sound of the hammer of a gun 'clicked' next to them.

"Move," Beth rasped, her blood soaked hand steadily pointing her gun at Michonne's face, "and I won't hesitate t'pull the trigger."

"Beth is dead," Michonne spoke, but remained still, "Who are you?"

"We fucked up," Daryl cursed while slowly standing from the cold, tile floor, "She was still alive, Michonne. We buried her an' she was still  _alive_."

"She's…not dead?" Michonne's pained eyes turned from him to Beth's crumpled form and back again.

Daryl shook his head.

"You're real," Michonne lowered his knife, "and Beth is alive."

"Yeah," Daryl moved to crouch next to Beth.

"Is it bad?" Beth's tired voice cut through the heavy silence.

"I don't think it needs stitches," Daryl pulled his red bandana from his back pocket and applied pressure to her wound, "How ya' holding up?"

"I can't feel my legs," she admitted, making an anguished face when she tried to sit up higher against the wall, "but I'm fine otherwise."

Daryl glanced up at Michonne, finding her watching their interaction warily, and felt relieved that they had finally seemed to have gotten through.

"Daryl?" Beth asked, immediately regaining his attention, "Can you help me up?"

"Yeah," he replied while wrapping an arm under her shoulders and helping her to her feet, "Where's your bag?"

"In tha' room I was searchin'," she jerked her head towards the door on the right side of the corridor, "I found the head of security's journal. Might be somethin' in it that can tell us what happened here."

"You won't need it," Michonne spoke up, sounding much more like herself, "I can tell you anything you want to know."

Daryl and Beth exchanged glances.

They stood in silence for a moment before Michonne moved to retrieve her katana. Daryl felt Beth's form tense, but he kept his arm snugly wrapped around her slender waist.

"I'm sorry I attacked you," Michonne apologized while sheathing her blade, "If I had known it was really you-"

"The Whisperers were here," Beth interrupted coolly, "weren't they?"

Michonne twisted back around to face them, regarding them stoically.

"They never left," Michonne replied ominously.

Daryl felt Beth's hand slide across his lower back, fisting the untucked tails of his shirt under the hem of his vest.

"I have some first aid supplies in my room," Michonne turned, picking up Daryl's crossbow, and began walking down the hallway, "We can talk there."

"You trust her?" Beth questioned bluntly.

"Yeah," Daryl nodded, "She was with us before we found Alexandria."

"Then that'll have t'be good enough for me," Beth replied, but kept her gaze intent on Michonne's form.

…

After taking a quick detour to reclaim Beth's backpack, Daryl had helped Beth walk towards Michonne's room until her legs could support her own weight. Daryl recognized it as one they had already searched earlier that day, but it wasn't the same room they had heard movement from the day before. It was on a completely different floor than the closet where they had taken refuge, on the opposite side of the school.

"You should take off your machete so we can clean your wound," Michonne instructed while tossing Daryl's crossbow onto a bed and removing a white, tin box from a shelf.

"I'd rather not," Beth countered sardonically.

"Suit yourself," Michonne replied unfazed by Beth's tone.

Daryl took the box when Michonne offered it to him, unlocking the clips and opening the tin to find an array of different medical supplies. With pharmaceutical companies' no longer in production, they'd had to resort to making their own remedial concoctions. Pulling out a roll of cream colored fabric and a clear bottle marked 'antibiotic ointment,' Daryl began trying to clean Beth's wound.

"So," Beth began while he applied the clear ointment onto her wound, "how long have you been followin' us?"

Daryl was not surprised that Beth had noticed that Michonne's room was nowhere near the supply closet. He had planned on asking Michonne the very same question once he was through tending to Beth's arm.

"I left to look for supplies a few days ago," Michonne explained, "I saw the two of you in the office wing when I got here this morning."

"How'd you get in?" Beth narrowed her eyes, "The front gates were chained and locked when we got here."

"I had the key," Michonne crossed her arms over her chest, "When I got here, the gate was open, and all the walkers had been cleared off the bus. I knew it had to of either been Ezekiel coming back or someone had snuck in."

"So you weren't here last night?" Daryl asked; tying off the fabric he'd used to wrap Beth's arm.

"No," Michonne dropped her arms to her side, "Why?"

"What happened here?" Beth answered her question with a question, "Why did everyone leave?"

"It started a month ago. Maybe longer," the darker skinned woman began, "We noticed some walkers acting suspiciously. They were hiding in the tree line, just out of range, but close enough to be seen. Ezekiel wanted answers so he had a few men go out and patrol the woods."

"What happened?" Daryl inquired when she didn't continue.

"We found them tied to a tree," Michonne spoke through clenched teeth, "Their throats had been slit and they'd bled out where they stood. They'd already turned when we found them."

Beth stood and rolled the shoulder of her braced arm in a circular motion as she began to pace around the room.

"Why didn't you radio?" Daryl asked accusingly, "We have a protocol fer' shit like this."

"I tried," Michonne snapped, "Ezekiel said we had nothing to report. A few walkers acting strange and some guys who'd had their throats slit in the woods wasn't enough to go on. We had no idea who we were dealing with. We didn't even know who  _they_  were until it was too late."

"Why evacuate the community?" Beth asked as she ceased her pacing and moved to stare out of the window against the wall closest to the door.

"We think one of them infiltrated The Kingdom, posed as one of us, and learned our schedule," Michonne continued back onto the main topic, "They struck one night during the graveyard shift. Someone had left the gate unlocked and with only a few people along the wall; they had been able to sneak in unnoticed. We lost a lot of people before they finally called a retreat. That's when the herd hit us. We didn't have time to radio, but Ezekiel thought if they knew our schedule, they probably knew how our whole system worked. He took the radio with him and we got as many people out as we could."

"Do you know where they are?" Daryl stood and racked a hand through his hair.

"They're-"

"Daryl, we need t'get out of here," Beth's voice trembled.

"What is it?" Daryl moved to stand beside her.

He'd only caught a glimpse of movement in the courtyard below, but it was enough.

"You said you didn't get here until this morning?" Beth turned her full attention on Michonne.

"Yes," Michonne answered incredulously, "What's going on?"

"Someone was followin' us when we were outside tha' walls," Daryl explained, "We heard 'em last night and again this mornin'."

"If it wasn't you," Beth added, "Then that means it was probably one of tha' Whisperers. We've been here long enough that they'll have had time t'get a herd moving in our direction."

Daryl knew Beth was right. It was well into the evening and whoever it was had left early that morning. They wouldn't have had time to make it to Alexandria and back, but if what Michonne said was true, they had a camp somewhere near The Kingdom. They were the ones that had been following them through the woods and stalking the outside of the walls. They were after Beth and he had brought her to the one colony with no defenses left in place.

"Grab whatever you need," Daryl ordered to Michonne while taking his crossbow and sliding the strap over his shoulder, "We gotta' move… _now_."

Daryl's gaze followed Beth as she ran to the door, cracking it open and peering into the darkening hallway. Michonne quickly gathered a few changes of clothes and shoved them into her backpack before signaling that she was ready to move.

"It's clear," Beth said quietly over her shoulder.

Daryl stepped away from the window and crossed the room to stand behind the petite blonde.

"I'll take point," Michonne declared while unsheathing her katana and stepping through the door.

"You go on," Daryl nudged Beth forward, "I'll bring up tha' rear."

Beth acted as if she were about to exit the room before turning back to him, "Don't get too far behind."

"I won't," Daryl replied.

They raced down the hall, down a flight of stairs, and Daryl could hear glass shattering somewhere nearby. The school was no longer quiet, instead filled with the moans of the dead, and he knew they were too late.

The dead were clambering through windows that had been filled with glass only moments before and among them were bodies that moved too agile to be a walker. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Michonne kept moving, slicing her blade as necessary when a corpse stood in her way.

"Follow me," she yelled while running through the foyer, "The weight room is in the basement level of the school. There's a passageway we can take that will lead us out towards the baseball fields."

Daryl followed behind Beth, weaving through the corridors, through a door, and down a flight of stairs he'd never seen before. When the door shut behind them, they were submerged in total darkness. Daryl's hands grazed the wall as he continued his descent, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He was just beginning to make out the shapes in front of him when the jingling of keys echoed in the silence of the room.

"Once we're outside," Michonne whispered in a hushed tone, "run straight across the fields. We'll have to climb the fence, but once we're over them, we can use the woods for cover."

"Alright," Daryl answered through the dark, "If we get separated, go straight t'Alexandria. We'll all meet back up there."

"Be careful," Michonne implored before throwing open the door.

The distance across the field was farther than he'd had to sprint in quite some time. His chest burned, his muscles ached, and he was panting heavily by the time they reached the fence. Tossing his crossbow over onto the other side, he helped Beth scale the fence before he began climbing himself. There were no signs of walkers behind him, but he knew it was only a matter of time before the entire school was covered in the walking dead.

When his feet touched the ground, Beth was standing with his crossbow in hand, waiting for him. He took his weapon, grabbed hold of her hand, and began sprinting once more. Michonne was a few feet ahead of them, maneuvering through the trees, and Daryl trailed after her. They'd have to sneak through the woods, back towards the front of the school, and wait for an opportunity get his bike. Until then, they'd just have to survive the night and steer clear of the herd.

Looking behind them, he could no longer see the school through the trees, but instead he could clearly make out the exhaustion in Beth's features. She hadn't had time to fully recuperate from her encounter with Michonne and he knew there'd be no time for her to rest any time soon. Michonne was deadly with her katana; smooth and fluid. Watching Beth keep up with her would have been mesmerizing had the situation been under different circumstances.

Their pace slowed as the distance between them and the school grew. When Michonne began walking, Daryl stopped and adjusted his crossbow to rest against his chest.

"What're you doin'?" Beth asked breathlessly.

"Hop on," Daryl leaned down and extended his arms behind him.

"You serious?" Her tone expressing her uncertainty.

Daryl chuckled, repeating the same words he'd said to her all those years ago, "Yeah. This is a serious piggyback."

Daryl heard the buckles of her brace unfasten, glancing over his shoulder to catch her strapping her machete onto her backpack, and then her hands were on his shoulders. A moment later, his hands were gripping the underside of her thighs and her weight was pressed against his back.

"I think you've lost 'ah few pounds," he said as he started walking.

"You've carried me like this before?" Her voice sounded next to his ear.

"Yeah," he replied, "Once. After you'd caught your ankle in a varmint trap."

"Oh," Beth's breath tickled his neck, "Thanks."

"Yeah," Daryl murmured, "Why don't you get some rest. We got 'ah long night ahead of us."

Beth rested her cheek against his shoulders, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck in response. It wasn't long before her breathing evened out and he had to bend slightly forward while he walked to make sure she didn't fall backwards. Her heart beat steady against his back and the calming sensation was a welcome change of pace.

"It's really her?" Michonne's question was one he'd asked himself several times when Beth had first arrived.

"Yeah," he adjusted Beth higher onto his back, "It really is."

"She didn't recognize me," Michonne stated evenly.

"She don't remember anything from before," Daryl informed her.

"Probably for the best," she replied solemnly.

"Yeah," Daryl's voice came out sounding gruff, "Maybe."

Silence fell between them as they crept through the woods.

Daryl wasn't sure whether he agreed with Michonne's sentiment or not. Beth didn't remember anything about her life before. She didn't remember her mother, her brother, Hershel, Maggie, or anyone else that had mattered to her. She couldn't remember a life where she'd been carefree and happy. A life where she had been safe. All she knew now was death, corpses, and fighting for survival. Then again, she didn't have to deal with her loss the same way he still mourned his brother. Time had eased some of the pain, but the wound was still there. Merle hadn't been much, but he'd been family, so maybe it really was for the best that she had lost her memories.

_After all, you can't miss what you can't remember._

…

 **A/N:** Richard and Benjamin are both actual characters in TWD comics. However, I did take a few liberties with Benjamin's character to fit my story.

Sorry for the late night update, but it's still July 5th here in Texas so I met my deadline! It took me a bit to get back into the swing of the story, but I hope this chapter was worth the wait! Thank you guys for the sweet messages wishes me a good time on vacation! I sincerely appreciate all the love and support! You guys are the best!


	16. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:**  A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

 **A/N:** I'm a day late, but I've been working on this chapter all week (it's a pretty massive chapter) and I just couldn't get it to end the way I wanted. So rather than publishing something I wasn't happy with, I decided to sleep on it. Came back to it today and I was able to bring the chapter to a clean ending! Hope you guys enjoy it!!

Also, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who sent thoughts and prayers Nicole’s way! Also I wanted to send a HUGE congratulations to  **Sarakaroline8** on having a beautiful, healthy baby boy!!!

To all my guest reviewers!! You guys are absolutely amazing! I appreciate that you take the time to leave me kind words and encouragement even if you don’t have an account! Also those of you who have made accounts just so you can follow my stories! I am beyond flattered and I appreciate each and every one of you beyond what you can imagine! Thank you all so much!!

...  

The woods were far too quiet for Daryl’s taste. Even the chirping of the crickets and buzzing of fireflies were absent in the eerie expanse of trees surrounding them. His back ached, the muscles in his arms burned, but he refused to wake Beth. He wanted to believe that they were a safe distance from the school, that they wouldn’t run into any more trouble before reaching his bike, but he knew that Lady Luck had never been very fond of the Dixon men. Should things go south, like the inevitably always did, he wanted Beth to be in a better condition than when they left the school. He had practically thrown her over the fence and then dragged her through the woods. He could tell she was doing her best not to stumble, but the sensation of her tightening her grip or tugging on his arm wasn’t lost on him.

While things hadn’t gone exactly as he’d planned, he was relieved to find Michonne. Granted she had been slightly unhinged at seeing Beth alive and walking, especially since the Whisperers had become an issue, but he was comfortable with Michonne. Before Alexandria, once Michonne had chosen to give up her pursuit of The Governor and reside within the prison on a permanent basis, the two of them had made plenty of the supply runs together. He was familiar with how she moved and reacted. If things got bad, she was in charge of the oncoming while he covered their backs. He was always sure to maintain a five foot distance from her, to avoid being clipped by her katana, and he was in charge of keeping track of an escape route should they become overwhelmed.  They had a system and it worked.

“So how did you know?” Michonne’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

They hadn’t spoken much since leaving the school. Neither of them had ever been much for conversation and Daryl had been concentrating more on their surroundings than he had about wanting to catch up with his old supply run partner.

“Know what?” He groused, voice hoarse from exertion.

“That she’d lost her memory,” Michonne elaborated.

“She didn’t recognize me,” Daryl revealed, “Or Rick, Judith, Carol. She didn’t even know her last name.”

“But she knew her first?” He could see the white of Michonne’s eyes cut to him through the dark.

“From her grave marker,” Daryl murmured.

“Ah,” he heard her exhale, “How did she survive on her own? It had to have taken months to heal from something like that.”

“She whadn’t alone,” Daryl glanced over his shoulder to the mop of blonde tresses, “Rick’s friend, Morgan, he found ‘er.”

“I’ve met him,” Michonne’s voice wavered, “If my memory serves me correctly, he wasn’t exactly in the right frame of mind to be takin’ care of another human being, much less one as wounded as Beth.”

“I’d never met him ‘fore they showed up at tha’ gates,” Daryl tightened his grip around Beth’s thighs, attempting to subtly lift her higher on his back.

Silence fell between them and Daryl focused on the crunching of leaves under their feet.

Michonne had continued at point, leading them through the woods, as she was more familiar with the territory. While others may have felt as if they were blindly traipsing through the woods, Daryl’s keen sense of direction told him that they were slowly circling back towards the main road into The Kingdom.

“What did she mean,” Michonne spoke up once more, “when she said she was numb?”

Daryl cleared his throat.

Beth had told him of her ‘condition’ in confidence. He knew she didn’t one hundred percent trust Michonne, as it was safe to be wary of anyone you didn’t know nowadays, and he wasn’t willing to risk breaking the carefully built trust that had formed between them just to satisfy Michonne’s curiosity.

“You’d have to ask her ‘bout it,” Daryl replied, “Ain’t my business t’tell.”

Michonne stopped walking and turned to look at him.

Daryl felt as if she was searching for something, but he wasn’t sure what exactly. He was hunched forward slightly, making him eye level with her, and it was all he could do to appear unfazed. Daryl had been told that his gaze was intense, intimidating even, but he doubted any of those people had been on the receiving end of one of Michonne’s scowls.

“What?” Daryl huffed when the katana wielder only continued to stare.

He watched her as she tilted her head while her eyes slowly drifted to Beth, whose head was peeking over his shoulder, before returning to continue staring at him silently. Daryl was just about to utter something that would most likely sound uncouth when Michonne smiled.

 _Smiled_.

Daryl’s eyebrows quirked as he tried to decipher exactly what it was that had made her smile so widely. Then, as if the entire exchange had never happened, Michonne turned around and resumed trekking through the woods, leaving a very confused Daryl in her wake.

“What tha’  _fuck_  was that about?” He cursed under his breath.

When Michonne made no indication of slowing down, Daryl was forced to abandon his thoughts and refocus on their surroundings. They were still in the middle of the woods, possibly being followed by walkers and Whisperers, and Daryl needed to keep his sense sharp. Whatever caused Michonne’s erratic behavior would have to be revisited at a later time, when their lives weren’t in danger and Beth wasn’t out cold on his back.

...

Beth awoke feeling sluggish. While pain wasn’t a sensation she was able to ascertain, exhaustion and lethargy were a different story. She blinked her eyes several times, trying to make them adjust to the darkness, and realized that she was moving even though she couldn’t feel the ground beneath her feet. For a moment she panicked, thinking her legs were still numb, until she felt the firm hold around her thighs. Inhaling, she breathed in a familiar scent that helped ease her mind while she slowly pieced together her current situation.

Lifting her head, her sight was filled with strands of long, brown hair that settled upon a leather vest.

“You awake back there?” Daryl’s hushed tone reached her ears.

Beth tried to reply, finding her throat raw and scratchy from the damp, night air, and only managed a cough. Covering her mouth, muffing the sound as much as possible, she took a deep breath and replied, “Yeah. I’m gettin’ there.”

“How’re you feelin’?” Daryl asked quietly.

Beth wiggled her toes within her boots, rolled her ankles in a circular motion, and then swung her legs gently swung her legs to and fro.

“I’m good,” she answered when her body followed her commands, “You can set me down now.”

Daryl stopped walking and she felt herself sliding down his back. She was a bit unsteady when she landed on her feet, using his shoulder for support, but after shaking her legs out several times she was able to stand securely on her own.

There was a sound behind them and Beth gripped her hand instinctively before remembering she had removed her machete. Her left hand raced to her holster and she had her gun up, hammer cocked, and aimed over Daryl’s shoulder within seconds.

Michonne stepped out of the darkness wordlessly; her katana glinting off the beams of moonlight shining down through the trees.

Beth hesitated a moment, her eyes traveling to Daryl who gave her a nod, before she lowered her gun. 

“Where are we?” She asked, holstering her gun and scanning the woods.

“The main road is through that clearing,” Michonne answered, pointing in the direction she was referring to with her katana, “I have a vehicle parked nearby.”

“I parked my bike ‘ah mile or two from tha’ gate,” Daryl said while removing his crossbow from across his chest and replacing the strap over his shoulder.

“I’ve got a vehicle parked closer,” Michonne stated, “We can all fit and I can drop you two off when we reach your bike.”

Beth could hear the exchange taking place between them, but her eyes were fixed on the trees. The only noise she could hear were Daryl and Michonne’s voices and the occasional breeze blowing through the trees. The branches of the trees cast odd shadows in the dim light of the moon and only seemed to fuel her paranoia. Slowly, careful not to make any sudden moves, she removed her machete from where she had strapped it onto her backpack and slid the brace up her arm. She felt better once she had secured the brace around her arm, but only marginally. The wooded area was too big and she felt vulnerable in comparison.

“Aright,” she heard Daryl continue, “Beth?”

“Yeah?” She murmured, acknowledging him without ever taking her eyes off the trees behind them.

“Are you good?” He asked, “If ya’ need to rest ‘ah bit more-”

“No,” Beth interjected; eyes darting from tree to tree as if something were about to jump out and attack them, “We should go.”

“Follow me,” Michonne ordered and crept towards the clearing.

Beth followed close behind with Daryl on her heels. When they reached the edge of the woods, Beth could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Adrenaline surged through her veins. They were on the opposite side of the road from the woods they had cut through when they had arrived the night before, but the ominous feeling remained the same.

“Something’s off,” Beth hissed as her boots ‘clacked’ across the cracked asphalt.

“Keep moving,” Michonne shot back, shoulders tense and katana poised.

Beth glanced over her shoulder to find Daryl, crossbow raised, and eyes darting every which way.

She found solace in the fact that she wasn’t the only one sensing the threat hidden from their view. She tried to rationalize that they should be safer here as a majority of the Whisperers were probably at the school, mingling with the herd, but Beth knew better. The Whisperers were clever. They could ambush a person without them ever knowing they were there. They’d set traps that would steer their victims in the direction they wanted. The moment it felt safe, they would strike.

They dashed across the main road, continuing down a side street before slowing their pace as they approached a group of vehicles. It was obvious which one belonged to Michonne, as it still had all of its doors and wheels intact, but Beth had no intention of letting her guard down until they were safe within the walls of Alexandria.

Beth opened the rear door to the charcoal grey SUV and slid across the bench seat. Daryl took the front passenger side while Michonne sat behind the steering wheel. There was a moment of silence, a false sense of security, and then Beth realized that the car hadn’t been started.

“The keys,” Michonne’s quiet tone sent chills down Beth’s skin, “They’re missing.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Daryl cursed.

“Get out of tha’ car,” Beth nearly shouted, already reaching for the door, “It’s a trap! Get out of tha’ car!”

The first walker exited the tree line across from the vehicle. Several more followed soon after, but there was something different about them. Their faces were decayed, their clothes covered in streaks of black and reddish-brown stains, but Beth could see the healthy skin peeking through the tattered material.

“ _Whisperers_ ,” Beth spat.

“I can hotwire tha’ car,” Daryl’s rough voice barely reached her ears as he joined them on the driver’s side of the SUV.

“We’ll cover you,” Michonne replied and unsheathed her katana.

Beth’s eyes connected with his for a brief moment before he turned and began tearing into the paneling underneath the steering wheel.

Stepping forward to stand next to Michonne, they waited for the ‘walkers’ to drop their façade. The ‘corpses’ stopped at the edge of the asphalt, keeping the road between them, and it was then that Beth heard their hushed tones.

“That’s her,” one of them whispered.

“Blonde hair and scarred face,” another agreed.

“We bring her back alive,” a third added, “the others we don’t need.”

They were outnumbered and she only had a split second to make a decision. She knew that just the two of them would never be able to hold off twelve Whisperers without at least one of them getting to Daryl. She had to even the odds a bit. The moment they stood straighter, Beth wasted no time pulling her gun from her holster and making sure three of them wouldn’t be able to reanimate. Her fourth shot missed her target’s forehead, striking them in the shoulder instead, as they began to scatter. She still had four rounds left, but with everyone scattered, she couldn’t get a clear shot. Quickly putting her gun away, she braced herself for the Whisperers rushing towards them. While some had leapt away from the gunfire, turning back into the woods to use the trees for cover, others had charged in their direction. She knew they were on borrowed time, as any walkers in the vicinity would be attracted to the ruckus they’d created, but she surmised that if Daryl didn’t get the car running within the next few minutes, the undead would be the least of their problems.

Beth didn’t wait around to see what Michonne was going to do, meeting a Whisperer in the middle of the road and using her momentum to thrust her machete straight into their abdomen. Using her shoulder to pull her blade back out, she moved on to the next masked attacker. She’d heard the Whisperers intentions when it came to her life. She had a better chance of disposing of them than Michonne or Daryl. The Whisperers would aim to kill both of them, but Beth? Their leader wanted her alive.

She swung her machete upwards, slicing clean through an arm grasping as her shoulder. There was a bloodcurdling scream and Beth swung again, her blade silencing the wail as the Whisperers head fell from their neck. Blood spurted profusely from the body as it fell to its knees, splattering Beth’s face, arms, and saturating her clothing, before it fell forward onto the ground in a puddle of crimson. She could see Michonne out of the corner of her eyes, hacking at anyone that came near her with her katana. Between the two of them, they had taken out eight of the dozen or so assailants. With no one in her immediate area, she took a step closer to Daryl, and she spared a glance to make sure nothing was coming from the other side of the vehicle behind them. With the area behind the SUV still clear, Beth turned her attention back to the handful of Whisperers still attacking them. She had lost track of one of them in the woods, two were fighting with Michonne, and Beth looked around for the fourth masked figure. Taking another step back, eyes darting from side to side, Beth took a steadying breath and flexed her fingers that had been tightly gripping the handle of her machete.

She was nearly to the edge of the road when the air was pressed from her lungs. Two arms had wrapped around her so tightly, she was finding it hard to breath. Her back cracked several times from the force the arms were exerting on her body and her ribs felt like they were about to snap. She had been lifted off the ground, her feet kicking every which way trying to find purchase on something, and her arms were immobile from within the hold on her. She heard herself let out a breathless whimper, her vision was beginning to swim, and it was all she could do to suck in even the tiniest bit of air. When her surroundings began to change, she realized it had nothing to do with not being able to breath, and that she was being dragged away from the SUV. A new burst of adrenaline flooded her system as panic set in and knowing she couldn’t let herself be taken, she tried to recall everything Morgan had ever taught her that would help in her situation.

Sucking in as much air as she could, she grit her teeth together and threw her head back with all the strength she could muster. She wasn’t sure what she made contact with, but her head hit so hard that her neck popped and she saw little black dots everywhere she looked. She was instantly dropped to the ground, landing in a heap, and she blinked her eyes trying to clear her vision. Pushing herself off of the ground, she sought after her attacker, finding them a few feet away clutching at their face as blood spilled from beneath the mask.

“Stupid bitch,” came the nasally insult, “I don’t care what Alpha said. You’re gonna’ die here tonight!”

The man was easily an entire foot taller than Beth and probably weighed twice as much as she did. He could easily overpower her if he was to get his hands on her again. She had to end this quickly. Her eyes darted from side to side and she realized she had been taken much farther than she anticipated. She was in the woods and she could see the road in front of her, but the Whisperer blocked her path. She had to get past him, onto the road, where she’d have a better chance of getting Daryl’s attention. If she called for him now, she wasn’t sure he’d be able to pinpoint her exact location within the wooded area. There was also the possibility that once she screamed, her opponent would likely keep her from being able to do so again.

If she was sure he didn’t have a gun, she would just take off running, but that wasn’t a risk she was willing to take. If she could get enough distance between them, she could use her own pistol and end the fight. However, there were too many trees for him to hide behind and bullets were hard to come by nowadays. Then there was the fact that, assuming he didn’t have a gun of his own, she didn’t want to be close enough that he could overpower her and put one of her own bullets between her eyes. Of all the ways to die, having her gun taken from her and used against her was not the way she wanted to go. That only left her with one option. Getting into a defensive stance, she reevaluated her surroundings, calculating which strikes she would make and which trees she would use for cover. All she had to do was reverse their positions without him realizing what she was doing and make for the road.  

“I took out Alpha’s brother,” Beth sneered, feeling more confident with having formulated a plan, “What makes you think  _you_  can kill me?”

Morgan had taught her that if a fight was unavoidable and civil conversation wasn’t an option, she had to do whatever she could to get into her aggressors head; make them angry. He’d told her that anger affected a person’s ability to think rationally. When rational thought was no longer a factor, people would begin making mistakes, reveal too much information, or even leave themselves open to an attack. All she had to do was bide her time and find the opening.

“I’m going to break your legs so you can’t run, then I’m going to remove your fingers… _one by one_. You’ll probably pass out from the pain so I’ll have to wait on snapping your arms,” she couldn’t see his face from under the mask, but she could imagine the sick grin he had plastered on his face, “Then, when you’re screaming and begging for me to kill you, I’m going to skin you  _alive_.”

Beth felt herself cringing internally. She knew that every word he had said wasn’t just an idle threat. If he got his hands on her, he was going to make good on his verbal illustration. Grinding her teeth together, she swallowed dryly and forced herself not to tremble.

“Sounds like a lovely time,” she hoped her voice didn’t quiver, “but sadly, that’s just not going to work out the way you’re imagining.”

The Whisperer took a step forward and Beth slid one foot back, but didn’t give him any ground.

“Oh yeah?” He chuckled humorlessly, “And why’s that?”

Beth dug the toe of her boots into the ground, placing all of her weight on the balls of her feet.

“For one,” she replied steadily, “I can’t feel pain.”

She recognized the change in his stance, waiting for her moment.

“And for two,” she inhaled deeply, “You’re the one dying today.”

Then he lunged at her, just as she had predicted, and Beth leapt to the right and rounded a tree a few feet away. Not waiting to see if he’d recovered, she maneuvered through the thicket and was almost to the ditch when she felt a sharp tug and was flung backwards. Swinging blindly behind her as she fell, her machete barely grazed the skin of his bicep, causing the man to release his hold on her shirt. Scrambling to her feet, she burst out of the woods and into the grassy trench next to the road.

“DARYL!” She managed to shout before she was tackled from behind.

She was pressed into the ground, her mouth breathing in dirt, and then she was suddenly staring up towards the sky. She sliced her blade through the air, aiming for the man’s throat from where he was leaning over her, but he caught her brace and pinned her arm above her head. She made a fist and swung her other hand, hoping to land a blow to his face, but he caught her wrist in the same manner. She kicked and squired, trying to get away, but it was futile. Her arms were pinned to the ground and she could no longer move her legs from where he’d sat his weight on her thighs.

“DARYL!” She screamed louder.

“Now, now,” the Whisperer scolded, “Let’s not do that again.”

Beth could smell the decayed mask and felt bile rising to the back of her throat. She had every intention of yelling again until she felt the cold sensation of a blade pressed against her jugular.

“We don’t want anyone interfering, do we?” The man continued, “I have promises to keep.”

Beth pressed her eyes shut and twisted her torso, trying desperately to break free, until the pressure against her throat made it hard to breath.

“Gutsy one, aren’t ya’?” He teased, “I’m going to enjoy this.”

Beth opened her eyes and stared straight into the hollowed out eye sockets of the walker mask. Brown, callous eyes stared back at her. They were nothing like the warm blue ones she had begun to admire. She’d had plenty of ‘close calls’ in her three years with Morgan, but none of them had ever been like this. She’d always had Morgan with her and he’d always managed to get them to safety or vice versa. She’d never been alone. She’d always been able to fight her way out. She’d always survived.

“You know what the best thing about the world going to shit has been?” The voice above her took on a whimsical tone, “I get to do whatever I want to pretty girls like you and there’s no one that can stop me.”

The blade slowly slid away from her neck, across her collarbone, and down the material of her shirt.

“I’ve found it interesting to see just how far I can go before my victim bleeds out,” he elaborated, “There’s so much screaming and crying and begging. It gets old.”

Beth knew what was coming. She felt the blade tracking down her stomach, catch the hem of her flannel shirt, and slide back up to expose her flesh. There was pressure on her hip followed by warmth streaming over her skin.

“You though?” She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was smiling, “You really can’t feel pain can you?”

Beth refused to cower. Blinking her eyes, willing away the tears forming in her eyes, she tightened her jaw and glared at the man above her. She had felt truly terrified a few times, namely the two occasions Morgan had been on the verge of death, but this was something completely different. She was powerless to stop this man from doing whatever he wanted and she was completely alone. Regardless of how scared she was, she wouldn’t give this monster the satisfaction of seeing her cry. If she was going to die, she was going to do so staring straight into the eyes of her murderer.

The knife he was holding came into view and Beth could see shiny, crimson liquid coating one side of the blade. A droplet fell, landing on her check, and slid down into her ear.

“You didn’t even wince,” the Whisperer murmured, “Fascinating.”

The knife disappeared from view once more and she could feel the tip of his against her shoulder. Beth knew she needed to get away. She couldn’t give up. Morgan was waiting for her to come back and Daryl…she had seen what he’d looked like when she first arrived at Alexandria. Carol had told her, during one of her visits to the med bay, that Daryl had never been the same after they’d lost her. That losing her had nearly broken him. Beth may not have remembered what Daryl was to her before, but he was important to her now. He’d been one of the first people she’d come to trust other than Morgan. Being with Daryl made her feel things she’d never experienced before. She wasn’t ready to lose that.

Thrusting her hips upwards and twisting her arms, she tried to break free. She could feel the grasp around her hands slipping and she writhed and thrashed with more force. He still had a hold of her brace, but she managed to yank her left hand free and immediately went for the gun on her hip. Ripping it from her holster, she twisted her wrist around as best she could and pulled the trigger. The bullet missed its mark, but Beth didn’t let it deter her. The man had dropped his blade, opting for grabbing at her unrestrained arm, and it was all she could do just to keep the gun from his reach.

She bent her arm, firing another shot, only to have him shove it out of the way and send the bullet into the woods. Knowing she only had two bullets left, she fought to keep the gun out of reach while twisting her waist in an attempt to break free. With her attention on the gun in her hand, she missed the fist flying towards her face, and the world suddenly became unfocused. She felt disoriented, almost as if she were being spun around and around, and it felt like forever before the world finally became clear.

“Crazy bitch,” the Whisperer hissed, “I’m going to tie you to a tree and then I’m going to cut your friends into little pieces while you watch. You’re going to wish I had killed you here by the time I’m through with them. Then I’m going to start on you.”

One of his hands was still holding her machete while the other was latched around her throat. She wasn’t sure what had happened to her gun, but it was no longer in her grasp. Digging her nails into the skin of his wrist, she tried to pry his hand away from her throat. Her lungs were burning and her eyes were watering. She couldn’t breathe. She kicked her legs and swung her fist at anything she could reach, but his hold was relentless.

“I’m going to start with the chick and once I’m finished with her, I’ll move on to your little male companion. You two seem pretty close,” the man’s words barely reached her as she continued to fight, “He seems quite fond of you. He even left the safety of your walls to get you and that bastard you’ve been travelling with.”

Beth felt herself growing weak. She was barely able to lift her arm and she couldn’t find the strength to keep kicking her feet. She gasped for air that wouldn’t come and tears spilled from her eyes. She was beginning to lose consciousness, her eyes barely able to focus on the decayed mask above her. Then there was a noise and the pressure around her throat ceased. She was barely able to recognize the heavy weight lying on top of her as her lungs filled with oxygen.

“Beth,” a voice called to her.

She felt like she was going to be sick.

“Beth,” she heard her name once more and the weight covering her disappeared.

Rolling to her side, she coughed violently, greedily sucking in air only to have it forcefully extracted from her body.

“ _Shit_ ,” she recognized the voice, “Just breath. Keeping breathing. There ya’ go.”

When she was finally able to inhale deeply without triggering another fit, Beth tried to sit up. Her body was weak and her arms trembled under her weight.

“I got ya’,” warm hands helped guide her into a seated position.

Looking up from the ground, she was met with concerned blue eyes. She opened her mouth to try and speak, but the only noise she made was a cracked whimper before the tears clouded her vision.

“He’s dead,” Daryl said softly, “You’re safe.”

She nodded, but the tears continued to fall.

She’d never been so close to death before. She’d never felt the life draining from her body as she desperately clung to her consciousness. She’d never felt so helpless in what little of her life she could remember.

She felt a hand slide around to her back and Beth leaned into his hold.

“I tried t’fight him,” she choked out as Daryl’s other hand wrapped around her.

“I know,” Daryl shushed into her hair.

“He was so much bigger than me. Stronger than me,” she mumbled brokenly.

“I know,” Daryl repeated.

“I thought I was gonna’ die,” her throat was raw and protested each word she spoke.

“You’re safe now,” Daryl’s hold on her tightened.

Beth wasn’t sure how long she stayed there crying while Daryl held her, but when the tears finally subsided and she had regained her composure, she glanced towards the body resting next to them. He was lying on his back, with his head slightly facing towards them, and dull brown eyes stared blankly through the eye sockets of the mask. Any of his other features were lost under the decaying flesh covering his skin, but what held Beth’s attention was the familiar bolt protruding from the man’s temple.

“My pistol,” she whispered hoarsely when she was finally able to form a coherent thought.

Daryl must have understood her fragmented thought, pulling away from her, and searching the grass for her weapon. A few moments later, he was crouched in front of her, tucking her gun into its holster and taking her hands within his own.

“C’mon,” Daryl stood, pulling her to her feet, “Michonne’s waitin’ at the car.”

Turning away from the dead body, Beth looked up at him and gave him a slight nod. She followed behind him as he gently lead her away from the corpse of the man that had nearly taken her life. She stared down at their hands where their fingers intertwined. Her knuckles were white from where she held onto him, barely visible beneath the grime and blood covering them, and she forcibly made herself relax.

They walked the short distance in silence and when they finally reached the running vehicle, Daryl helped her removed her machete before ushering her into the back seat of the SUV. Daryl and Michonne held a quiet conversation outside of the driver’s side door, their voices below a whisper, but Beth couldn’t find it within herself to try and listen regardless. Then Daryl was moving around the vehicle, climbing into the passenger seat, and they began accelerating down the road. The ride was just as silent as the walk to the car and every so often, Daryl would glance back at her. Her eyes would meet his for a moment, then flicker back to stare out of the windshield. They continued this way until Daryl finally broke the silence surrounding them.

“Bike’s right past that sign,” he gestured to the opposite side of the road.

The SUV slowly crept to a stop and Daryl hopped out of the vehicle.

“Wait here,” he said to her in the back seat, “Lemme’ make sure no one’s screwed with my bike.”

She nodded and watched him move around the SUV to pull his bike out from where he’d concealed it between two vehicles. He leaned it on its kickstand, squatting next to it and running his hands over the intricate parts under the gas tank. He then stood, opened her door, and motioned for her to exit the vehicle.

“We’ll meet you in Alexandria,” he said to Michonne who’d rolled down her window, “You know which roads t’steer clear of?”

“Yes,” Michonne replied, “Drive safe.”

“You too,” Daryl replied and turned towards his bike.

Beth watched Michonne slowly begin to drive away. Then Daryl was moving, placing his crossbow on its makeshift holster, sitting on his bike, and offering Beth a hand so she could sit behind him. She took it, swinging her leg over the seat and positioned herself on the back of the cushion, and that’s when she noticed them; the scars.

She had seen them a while back, when she’d finally broken down and told him everything about the Whisperers, but she hadn’t felt it was any of her business. Things were different now. She trusted Daryl as much as she trusted Morgan. She wanted to know more about it. If her latest run in with the Whisperers had reminded her of anything, it was just how short life could be and how abruptly it would come to an end. She knew how defensive she felt about her own scars, regardless of the fact that she didn’t remember how she’d acquired them, and hesitated in asking. Morgan had always said she’d been too curious for her own good, but she reasoned that Daryl knew more about her than she knew about herself and therefore she was entitled to a few questions. If he chose not to disclose the information, Beth would never bring up the subject again and let him tell her in his own time.

“I saw…in your bedroom…,” she rasps hoarsely, tracing her fingers over the scar peeking out from underneath the edges of his sleeveless shirt and vest, “What happened?”

Daryl didn’t immediately reply, turning to look at her over his shoulder, and then returning his gaze in front of them.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna’,” Beth added when the silence stretched into awkwardness.

“Nah, it’s jus’,” he cleared his throat, “My dad was ‘ah drunk. He got real bad after my mom passed away and liked t’take things out on my brother. When Merle left and joined tha’ military, it was just me. I moved out first chance I got.”

His explanation was vague, but it was enough for Beth. She had a very muddled concept on what a ‘family’ was supposed to be, having only had Morgan for the entirety of what she could remember, and he had always taken care of her to the best of his ability. The idea that the one person Daryl should have been able to depend on had left the jagged scars she’d seen on his back enraged her.

“Did he make it?” Beth tried to keep the venom from her voice, “Your dad? Did he survive?”

“No,” Daryl answered, “We got attacked by some walkers when the virus first broke out. We were on ‘ah hunting trip with my Uncle Jess. There whadn’t anything left of him by tha’ time me and Jess finally got them off of him.”

“Good,” Beth replied callously.

Had Morgan been with them, he would have been scolding her for finding satisfaction in someone’s demise, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She firmly believed that people got what they deserved and if the scars on Daryl’s back were anything to go by, his father’s death was warranted.

“It’s not so bad anymore,” Daryl informed her, “I’ve made peace with it.”

“How so?” Beth placed her hand flat against his back.

“Found ‘ah book about it,” Daryl explained, “Helped sort some things out.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Beth replied sincerely.

“Everyone goes through shit at some point or another,” Daryl shrugged, “We should get goin’.”

 “Yeah,” Beth agreed.

Wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek in between his shoulder blades, Beth suddenly felt very tired. Their trip to The Kingdom had been far more than they had bargained for, but they had the answers they needed. The Kingdom had been abandoned and Michonne could give them more details once they were safe within Alexandria’s walls. The Whisperers were far more organized than she had ever anticipated. The fact that they had been able to infiltrate The Kingdom completely undetected meant that the same could happen in Alexandria or Hilltop. The idea that one of  _them_  could already be amongst the community was terrifying. 

As the motorcycle roared to life, Beth relished in the way the wind fanned through her hair, letting her worries fade into the cool night air. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the familiar scent of pine and oil, causing her throat to burned from the endeavor. She was sure she would have a nasty bruise in the morning, but she was alive thanks to Daryl. Closing her eyes and tightening her hold around his waist, she felt him shift, and then one of his hands was covering the both of hers. He gave her a reassuring squeeze and she relaxed against him. She had a feeling that things would get much worse before The Whisperers were dealt with, but for now, all Beth wanted to do was close her eyes and nestle into the warmth of Daryl’s back.

With Morgan’s condition, she knew they could no longer run from  _them_  and she was tired of constantly looking over her shoulder. They had a better chance of survival residing in Alexandria and there was comfort in the fact that it was no longer her and Morgan against the world. She trusted Daryl and she would have to put her faith in his group’s ability to handle the monsters hiding in the woods.

_She just hoped having a little faith wouldn’t get them all killed._

…

 **A/N:**  Jess Collins is from the game  _[The Walking Dead: Survival Instinct](http://walkingdead.wikia.com/wiki/The_Walking_Dead:_Survival_Instinct)_. He is the half-brother of [ Will Dixon](http://walkingdead.wikia.com/wiki/Will_Dixon) and half-uncle to [Merle](http://walkingdead.wikia.com/wiki/Merle_Dixon_\(Survival_Instinct\)) and [Daryl Dixon](http://walkingdead.wikia.com/wiki/Daryl_Dixon_\(Survival_Instinct\)) (TWD Wikipedia).

The book I’m referring to at the end of this chapter is the same book Daryl finds in season 5 ep. 6 “Consumed” while searching with Carol for Beth.

The very last line of this chapter is a play on Beth telling Daryl, “Wouldn’t kill ya’ to have a little faith,” in season 4 episode 10 “Inmates.”

Sooo....pretty action packed chapter!!! Hope you guys liked it!! Let me know what you thought! XOXO


	17. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:**  A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

 **A/N:**  I my first piece of fanart for H.O.P.E! the-world-is-frozen made me an amazing photoshop from the quote "What makes you think you can kill me?" from chapter 15 when Beth was talking to the Whisperer in the woods! You can go to my profile and click the link to my photobucket account to see all the fanart I've been sent in my 'Fanart' album! You guys are truly amazing and I appreciate all the support and encouragement you've given me! XOXO

…

Beth had never felt more comforted by the sight of Alexandria Safe Zone's tall, steel walls standing grandiosely before her than she did while Daryl drove them through the gates. Michonne's vehicle crept in behind them, having pulled off a few miles back so that Daryl could pass her as her vehicle wouldn't be recognized by the guards, and pulled to a stop just inside the gated entry.

A wave of relief washed over her the moment she heard the clatter of metal closing behind them. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon and the community, for the most part, was still safely sleeping in their homes. Daryl helped Beth climb off the back of the bike and set the bike on its kickstand before swinging his leg over the seat.

"Where in tha'  _hell_ have you guys been?" Dwight's voice rang through the crisp morning air as he clambered down the metal steps, "You were supposed t'be back  _two_  days ago!"

"We ran into trouble," Daryl grumbled.

"What do ya' mean you 'ran into trouble?'" Dwight imitated Daryl's tone, "You were just supposed t'scout the place and come back."

A car door slammed and Beth turned to see Michonne approaching them.

"Is that  _Michonne_?" Dwight inquired, looking over Daryl's shoulder.

"Is there another woman with a katana I should be made aware of?" Michonne questioned with a smirk.

"What tha' fuck is goin' on over there," Dwight countered, unfazed by Michonne's smart remark, "We've been radioing you guys for  _weeks_."

"We'll fill everyone in on the details at tha' same time," Daryl replied sternly, "You send someone to let Rick know we're back?"

"Yeah," Dwight nodded, "I sent Cooper just as soon as I heard your bike."

"Alright," Daryl sighed, "Shit went bad at The Kingdom. We got a lot t'figure out."

"Damn," Dwight ran a hand over the scarred side of his face, "I'll get Cooper t'take over for me when he gets back and I'll catch up with you guys."

"Sounds good," Daryl agreed.

"Glad you guys made it back safe an' sound," Dwight patted Daryl on the shoulder before turning to Beth, "Morgan was awfully worried 'bout you. Coop said he'd drop by his house on tha' way back and let him know you guys were here."

"Thanks," Beth smiled tiredly.

"Sure thing," Dwight beamed and turned towards the stairway leading to the top of the wall.

"Eugene still have his fuel depot behind the office?" Michonne asked once it was just the three of them.

"Yeah," Daryl removed his crossbow from its mount on the back of his bike, "I topped off 'fore we left so there should still be some gas in tha' barrel. Don't think there's enough t'get you a full tank though."

"I'll make due," Michonne replied, "I'll fill up and meet up with you in the office."

"'Kay," Daryl grunted and heaved the strap of his crossbow over his shoulder.

Beth had taken to leaning against Daryl's bike during the brief conversation between Dwight and Michonne. She was exhausted and wasn't sure how much longer her legs could support her weight. She could only imagine how Daryl and Michonne felt as neither of them had been able to rest. She'd closed her eyes, just for a moment, while Daryl had been carrying her and the next thing she remembered was waking up with no recollection of ever having fallen asleep.

"We should-"

Beth snapped out of her daze when Daryl abruptly stopped talking mid-sentence.

"We should what?" Beth furrowed her brows, "What?"

Daryl's eyes were focused on her stomach and she noticed his jaw clenched tightly.

"What is it?" She asked; looking down in what she assumed was the general direction of his gaze.

It was then that she saw it.

A dark, brownish-red stain plastered her shirt onto her skin.

"Were you…," Daryl swallowed audibly and couldn't seem to finish his sentence.

Beth didn't reply and instead began trying to gently lift away the discolored material that had dried against her skin.

It was only a second later that Daryl's hands replaced her own and hastily tugged at the fabric of her shirt.

"Were you?" His words were sharp and panicked.

"Was I  _what_?" Beth huffed and wrapped her hands firmly around his wrists while he continued fumbling with her shirt.

" _Damnit_ ," Daryl hissed, "Were you  _bit_?"

"Bit?" Beth asked confusedly.

She stared up at Daryl's horrified expression and it took her a moment before realization hit.

" _Oh_ ," she shook her head, "No. No, this wasn't from 'ah walker."

Daryl swayed slightly and exhaled as soon as the words passed across her lips.

"It was tha' Whisperer," she clarified, "He was…it doesn't matter. He just nicked me on my hip."

"Nicked you my ass," Daryl grumbled, resuming his previous action of prying her shirt away from the wound, "You got enough blood on yer' shirt to attracted 'ah whole herd."

"It's not  _that_  bad," Beth rolled her eyes.

It was from this action that she realized there were several people watching them with rapt interest. Suddenly feeling very self-conscious of prying eyes, Beth tried to push Daryl's hands away.

"Daryl," she said softly.

"Your shirt acted as 'ah bandage," Daryl continued, "Gonna' have t'wet it down to get it off without reopening tha' wound."

"Daryl," Beth tried again.

"Don't look like it's too bad, but we still need t'be careful-"

" _Daryl_ ," Beth tightened her grip around his wrists.

"What?" He asked while finally looking up at her.

"It's  _fine_ ," she subtly tilted her head towards the wall and glared in the direction of their audience.

Daryl immediately let go of her shirt and took a step back. Adjusting the strap of his crossbow and clearing his throat, he moved next to his bike.

"I got some first aid stuff at tha' house," he said while lifting the kickstand with the heel of his boot, "We'll get you cleaned up and 'ah new shirt before we meet up with Rick."

"Okay," Beth responded quietly.

She took once last glance over her shoulder, finding everyone had gone back to whatever it was they were supposed to be doing, before she began following after Daryl.

…

The walk to Daryl's house was uneventful. The streets were empty save for the few who's jobs required them to wake before sunrise. Beth was too tired to carry on a conversation and Daryl hadn't been inclined to say much of anything so their walk was relatively quiet. Ambling up the steps of the porch while Daryl parked his bike, Beth set her bag by the front door and toed off her boots.

"First aid kits in tha' bathroom," Daryl announced as he entered through the front door.

Beth nodded and meandered towards the hallway.

She entered the small bathroom and grabbed a blue washcloth out of the linen cabinet. Turning on the faucet and holding the towel under the running water, she then pressed the saturated cloth against her shirt. Daryl walked in soon after and began rifling through the cabinet underneath where he kept his towels and pulled out a small zipper bag. Opening it, Beth noticed several bottles with paper labels taped across the containers. He then grabbed another towel and a milky colored bottle labelled 'alcohol.'

"I'd say this'd sting, but I don't guess you'd be able t'tell," he mumbled setting the container and towel down behind the faucet of the sink.

"Lucky me I guess," Beth murmured and dipped the towel under the sink to soak up more water.

"Here," Daryl took the washcloth from her," Lemme' see it."

He then bent down on one knee, his face eye level with her stomach, and carefully pressed the wet cloth over the stained area of her shirt while his other hand rested on her uninjured hip to hold her steady.

"What happened?" Beth could barely hear his question.

"I got mouthy," Beth let her head fall back to stare up at the ceiling, "Gave away information that I shouldn't have because I didn't think he'd get the upper hand."

"What'd you say?" Daryl's tone much clearer than a moment ago.

"The guy was insane," Beth motioned with her arms, "He started talkin' about all the things he was gonna' do t'me and then when I couldn't take the pain anymore, when I started beggin' him to kill me, he was going t'skin me alive."

The grip on Beth's uninjured hip tightened, but Daryl made no reply.

"So I might've made a comment or two about him being able t'do whatever he wanted, I wouldn't feel it anyway, and I'd been able t'take down Alpha's brother on my own," she rambled quickly and then sighed, "I thought I'd be able t'get away from him before anything happened."

She felt him fumbling with the buttons of her shirt and looked down to see him slowly peeling the wet material away from her wound.

"If that fucker was still alive," Daryl practically growled as the swollen, blood-stained skin of her hip became visible.

"He's not," Beth countered tersely.

Beth could feel Daryl's short, uneven puffs against her skin and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"He's  _dead_ ," Beth reiterated, "You killed him before anything too bad could happen."

"I saw him on top of you and I just…," Daryl took a deep breath and glared up at her, "He got off too easy."

"Probably," Beth shrugged, "but he's dead now. He can't hurt anyone else and you got t'me in time."

She held his gaze while his thumb brushed across her skin just under her laceration. It was soft, barely there, but Beth felt it. He slowly rose to his feet and her hands slide from his shoulders to his biceps. His thumb continued stroking her hip while the other rose to rest against her neck. She inhaled, feeling slightly panicked by the way his hand held her the same way the Whisperer had, but his touch was tender, soothing, and Beth released a shaky breath.

"I, umm…," Beth wasn't sure what she was trying to say, but she felt like she to say something, "I'm fine.  _Really_. It doesn't hurt or anything."

He was standing so close, closer than she'd allowed anyone to be before, and he was looking at her with such intensity that she had to force herself to keep from fidgeting. He was touching more intimately than she'd ever experienced and unsure of what she was supposed to do, she found herself leaning into him subconsciously.

"I'm sorry," he whispered and she felt his words fan across her face.

She blinked and furrowed her brows, "For what?"

"I should'a been helpin' you guys. I shouldn't have worried about tha' damn vehicle until we'd taken care of 'em," he ground out disdainfully; letting his hand fall from her neck to rest at his side.

"What?" Beth's hands instantly moved his arms to cradle his face, "No. There was 'ah herd and we had no idea how many of them were waiting for us. We had to get out of there. It was  _my_  fault. I wasn't payin' attention t'my surroundings. I got too far away from you and Michonne. That is  _not_  your fault."

"If I hadn't gotten' there…," his voice trailed off.

She didn't want him to play the 'what if' game. She hadn't had much practice with trying to comfort people, as Morgan was usually the one who did the consoling on the rare occasion it was necessary, and thus she decided to take a page out of his book. Morgan had a knack for appearing calm and collected even in the gravest of situations. She aimed for sounding confident without trivializing Daryl's involvement or making herself appear ungrateful.

"I would've figured something out," Beth feigned nonchalance.

It wasn't the truth and from Daryl's expression, he also seemed to be aware of her fabrication. If he hadn't gotten there when he did, there was a high probability that she would no longer be among the living. As much as she tried to act like her 'condition' didn't affect her, that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, she'd never felt more weak and alone than she had while the Whisperers' hands had been around her neck. The fight with Michonne, running through the school, across the baseball fields, and then trying to navigate through the woods had pushed her to her limit. To be ambushed at the SUV had been more than her body could handle. If she'd been able to fully recuperate, she was certain that she would have been able to handle one Whisperer by herself, but she hadn't been granted the rest she required and her attacker had been relentless.

"Thank you for being there when I needed you," Beth whispered demurely.

It was odd sensation, admitting aloud that she had needed someone. Morgan had always been a part of her life, at least for as long as she could remember, so needing him was just understood. Daryl, however, had waited patiently. He hadn't tried to break down her walls, or even scale them; he'd just given her the time she needed to open up to him. The fortress she had built around her had crumbled of her own will for him.

"You don't gotta' thank me," he replied hoarsely.

His voice was raw and Beth felt a warm flutter run through her body. His chest was pressed against her so tightly that she felt like their hearts were racing to see which could beat faster. The tips of his shaggy hair brushed against her fingers from where she held his face. The hand that had been gently holding her hip had seized a sturdier grip, pinning her flush against his stomach. The room suddenly felt very small, filled with only Daryl and the air she was struggling to obtain.

"We should, umm…," Beth's eyes flickered from Daryl's down to his lips.

"Yeah," his voice sounded deeper.

The hand that had been resting at his side timidly slid up the side of her jeans, under the hem of her shirt, and palmed the flesh of her uninjured hip. He took a step closer and Beth was forced to take a step back. After three paces, her back met the wall and the coolness of the tile against her heated skin was a welcomed sensation.

"Tha' water is still running," she admitted dumbly when the hum of the faucet suddenly began roaring in her ears.

All of her senses felt like they were on overdrive. Her hands drifted from his face to wrap around his neck. His skin was slick and warm from the heat that surrounded them. Sliding her fingers into the damp curls at the base of his neck, she was fascinated by the way his eyes fluttered closed.

"'S fine," he muttered breathlessly.

The hand clutching the intact flesh of her side skated around to her back, pulling her impossibly closer. Her breath was coming out in short pants while she let her gaze explore his face. His eyes were still closed, but quick rise and fall of his chest told her that he was feeling the same exhilaration that was flowing through her. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers and she stopped breathing altogether.

"Can I...?" Daryl's voice sent another wave of heat through her body.

Her mind was buzzing and she couldn't quite form an answer to whatever question he was asking. She had one thing on her mind and it had nothing to do with using her mouth to carry on a conversation. Instead, she tilted her head and pressed lips firmly against Daryl's. His reaction was instantaneous and it was then that Beth realized he'd been holding back.

His hands roved over the flesh of her back and she felt like she couldn't get close enough to him. Their lips moved awkwardly as Beth tried to maneuver hers with Daryl's. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do, letting her impulses guide her, and it wasn't until Daryl slowed down that she was able to match his rhythm. She breathed in deeply through her nose, inhaling Daryl's familiar scent, and it only further added to the searing heat she felt in the room.

She bit his lip on accident, when she had moved too quickly into the next kiss, and the sound Daryl made was electrifying. She did it again and she felt him pressed her further into the wall. There were so many sensations flooding her all at once that she wasn't sure exactly what she wanted, she just knew she wanted  _more_. Hiking her leg over his hip, she pulled him against her and the hitch in his breath emboldened her. She released her hold around his neck and let her fingers drift down the front of his chest. The combination of her actions seemed to break Daryl's restraint and he leaned away from her just long enough to rip open the remaining buttons of her shirt, revealing her worn-out, black sports bra. Beth took the opportunity to push his vest off his shoulders, groping at the buttons of his shirt while he moved to plant hot, wet kisses against her neck. She couldn't see what she was doing, but somehow she managed to get enough of the top buttons undone to slide the shirt over his shoulders and it settled around his waist. He kissed his way up the bruised skin of her neck, to trace the soft edge of her jaw, before hesitating over her lips.

"Have you done this before?" He asked huskily.

"I'm sure I have," she replied as she attempted to catch her breath, "but not that I can remember."

There was something in the look he gave her that Beth wasn't able to decipher. He then hooked his hand under her knee resting on his side, reaching around and doing the same with the other, and lifted her off the ground. He moved her to sit on the lip of the sink before he pressed his lips against hers much more gently. Droplets of water splashed against her back from where they ricocheted off the basin of the sink and Beth reached blindly behind her, searching for the knob to turn off the cold water. No longer distracted by the faucet, Beth wrapped her arms around Daryl's neck and settled into the slower pace he'd set. Something soft and warm brushed against her lower lip and Beth vaguely recognized what he had just done. She mimicked his action, gliding her tongue along his lower lip, and their slow rhythm was abandoned. He began kissing her mouth with the same fervor as before and Beth crossed her ankles behind his back in an effort to bring him closer. His tongue twirled around hers and Beth let a noise escape her mouth. His grip on her legs tightened and it was mid-kiss when he suddenly jerked away, leaving Beth breathless and confused.

"What?" She asked as she used her hands to balance herself on the skin.

She glanced down as his waist and noticed blood on his unblemished skin.

" _Shit_ ," he cursed, "You're bleedin'."

"Oh," Beth looked down to see her droplets of crimson oozing from her wound.

The cut wasn't deep, but it spanned several inches across her hip. Looking around, she grabbed the washcloth Daryl had retrieved with the alcohol and placed it over the wound.

"We need t'clean it up," Daryl stated while sifting through his first aid kit and pulling out a roll of tap and a square of white material.

Taking the towel from her, he doused a corner in alcohol and proceeded to wipe around her gash.

"You okay?" He glanced up while he dabbed over her wound.

"Yeah," she nodded, "Can't feel 'ah thing."

Daryl continued to clean the sliced skin and once it was disinfected to his satisfaction, he placed the square material over her gash and proceeded to tape it in place.

"It's in an awkward spot," he stated while running his thumb over the last piece of tape, "so you'll have t'be careful 'til it heals over."

"'Kay," Beth hummed as Daryl's thumb left trails of heat across her skin.

She suddenly became conscious of the fact that he was still standing in front of her, effectively pinning her in place, on the sink, shirtless. He must have come to the same realization, quickly stepping back to give her space, and lifting one of his calloused hands to rub the back of his neck.

"We, uh," he cleared his throat, "Rick and everyone else is probably waitin' on us by now."

"Yeah," Beth agreed and scooted off the sink.

"I'll let you get changed," his eyes gave her a once over before grabbing his vest off the floor and turning to leave.

"Hey Daryl," Beth called out quickly.

"Yeah?" He half turned towards her.

She hesitated, not having anything in particular she wanted to say, but she'd felt compelled to stop his hasty retreat. Bending down and picking up the remains of her ripped shirt, she exited the bathroom and stood in front of him. She had no idea how people were supposed to act after sharing such an intimate moment, so she decided go with her instincts.

"Thanks," she murmured as she lifted herself on her toes to place a kiss on his lips.

He leaned down as she lowered herself back to the floor, keeping his lips pressed against her for a moment longer before pulling away. She stared up at him, tempted by the taste of his lips, but pushed the desire to the back of her mind as she knew they had more important matters to address with the group. Stepping away, in the hopes that a bit of distance between them would help clear her head, she gave him a small smile and turned towards the bedroom.

Once in the privacy of Daryl's room, she leaned against the dresser and took a steadying breath. When her heart stopped pounding, she reached into the drawer she had claimed as her own, and slipped on the first shirt her fingers touched. Feeling much more in control of her thoughts, she replayed the entire scene in her head and another smile graced her features. Reaching up to trace her swollen lips, making sure what had happened hadn't been a figment of her imagination, she smiled even wider. She'd never experienced anything quite as euphoric as the kiss they shared in the bathroom. She'd always been very careful to keep people at a distance, both literally and figuratively, but she could definitely make an exception when it came to kissing Daryl.

…

Leaning against the far wall, away from the crowd that filled the room, Daryl listened to Michonne's recap of what had transpired at The Kingdom. He'd interject details when necessary, informing Rick of the message Ezekiel had left for him, but for the most part he'd just watched the other's reactions. Rick had requested Carol, Rosita, Eugene, Tara and Sasha all attend their impromptu meeting. Since Glenn, Maggie, Noah, and Carl were all located at Hilltop, Sherry was in charge of relaying details over the radio.

Beth had been at his side for the beginning of the meeting, but as soon as Carol arrived with Morgan draped across her shoulders for support, she'd practically tackled her one-armed companion. The two of them now stood on the opposite side of the room, closest to the door, talking amongst themselves.

Movement beside him caught his attention and he looked to find Dwight standing next to him.

"Morning shift over?" Daryl inquired quietly.

"Yeah," Dwight answered, "Things have been pretty quiet the past few days. No walker activity whatsoever."

Daryl knew exactly why there hadn't been any walkers. They'd all been led to The Kingdom.

"What happened t'Beth?" Dwight questioned hesitantly, "I saw 'er neck."

"Whisperer," Daryl bit out.

Dwight kept any other questions he might have had to himself, focusing instead on what Michonne was saying to the group.

She had just reached the point in her account of when she'd come across him and Beth. She left out the detail about attacking Beth, who she had mistakenly assumed to be a Whisperer considering the last time she'd seen the young blonde was when they had buried her, and finished with their ambush at the SUV.

"Why were you at The Kingdom?" Carol spoke up first, "If Ezekiel and the others are in a secure location, why aren't you with them?"

"Ezekiel didn't feel it was safe to use the radio. He didn't want to give away our location in case they were listening. I knew that you'd send someone to check on us, so I made frequent trips back to The Kingdom hoping to keep whoever came for us from going inside," Michonne explained.

"Why did you want to keep someone from going inside?" Sasha questioned from where she stood next to Rosita.

"Daryl?" Michonne addressed him, "When I told you The Kingdom had been attacked, what was missing?"

"There whadn't any blood," Daryl uncrossed his arms and pushed off the wall, "Not 'ah drop anywhere."

"But I thought you said you guys lost people in the attack?" Rosita pointed out.

"Most of the fighting happened outside, near the buses," Michonne informed them, "They killed some of us. They took others,"

"What do ya' mean they  _took_  others?" Daryl snarled.

"I saw them," Michonne clinched her teeth, "They were dragging people away. Taking them with them.  _Alive_."

An eerie silence fell over everyone in the room and Michonne continued.

"When we realized they'd gotten through the gate, everyone rushed to keep them out of the school. The storm we had a few weeks ago washed most of the blood away, but they must have come back for whatever remains the walkers left behind," her voice shook and for a moment the pain of her experience became visible through her schooled expression, "When I came back a few days later, the only evidence that anything had happened was the bus that had crashed into the school while we were escaping the herd."

"So what're you sayin'?" Rick placed his hands on his hips and furrowed his brows.

"They turned The Kingdom into 'ah trap," Morgan stated as Beth helped maneuver him towards the front of the room.

"How could they have known if Beth or Morgan would have gone to The Kingdom?" Tara inquired, "I mean,  _anyone_  could have gone to check things out. It was just lucky coincidence that Beth went with Daryl."

"You said you thought someone infiltrated The Kingdom?" Rick recounted, "What if they got some of their information about The Kingdom from tha' patrols sent out when you first noticed the walkers hidin' in the trees?"

"Byron," Dwight said the name in a clipped tone before Michonne could answer.

"You think they got information about us from him?" Sasha's face paled at her question.

"I'm beginning t'think we shouldn't put anything passed these… _people_ ," Rick declared intensely.

"What about the ones they took with them?" Carol queried, "Do you think they're still alive?"

"We didn't have a chance to send anyone after them," Michonne stated frankly, "The herd that hit us was one of the biggest I've ever seen. We were lucky that a majority of us got out of there."

"Why would they take people from The Kingdom if they'd already gotten inside?" Dwight's voice took an apprehensive tone.

Daryl had been asking himself the very same question. Maybe they had hoped to get information about the other communities from them? Or maybe they were like the people in Terminus? Beth had never mentioned cannibalism, but he'd come across it before and he wasn't sure there anything was out of the question when it came to these monstrosities.

"They stay close to 'ah herd for protection. They wear the masks to disguise their smell and blend in, but they don't  _control_  the walkers," Beth spoke up for the first time since the meeting began, "They're able to guide them, but they'd need incentive to get tha' walkers to follow them."

"Fan- _fuckin_ -tastic," Dwight exhaled and turned to place a hand on the wall for support.

"Rick," Sherry's voice quivered, "Maggie has some information that I think you should hear."

"What is it?" Rick looked up from where he was leaning over his desk.

Sherry fiddled with the knobs of the radio for a moment before Maggie's voice came out loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Yesterday Jesus and his scouting party were sent out lookin' for one of our patrolmen who'd gone missing. They were attacked by a group of Whisperers. We lost two of our men, but Jesus and Darius managed to survive," Maggie explained in a serious tone, "Jesus took one of the Whisperers hostage, killing the rest of them, and brought her back to Hilltop where we've begun interrogating her."

Daryl knew Jesus was a competent tracker, being Hilltop's scout, and he'd been honorably discharged from the military a few years before the world as they knew it came to an end. Jesus excelled in close quarters combat and although he sometimes let his emotions get the better of him, it was no surprise to Daryl that he'd survived being attacked by a group of Whisperers.

"Ask her if they've been able to get tha' girl to tell them anything," Rick asked; much more composed than he had been a moment ago.

Sherry relayed the question and Maggie's voice came through the radio once more.

"Our hostage's name is Lydia an' she claims t'be sixteen years old," Maggie began, "She told us that her group lives amongst various herds, that they try to  _cooperate_ with tha' undead so that they blend in and the walkers don't view them as food. They use tha' herds for protection an' are able to use them to attack other groups of people."

"We already know all this," Dwight huffed and resumed his place standing next to Daryl.

Daryl noticed Sherry glaring from across the room and Dwight quickly settled down.

"Lydia said that we need t'try to work something out with the Whisperers or they're gonna' kill all of us," Maggie continued, "She said your community has some people they want an' they're not going to stop until they get to 'em."

Daryl's eyes immediately snapped towards the center of the room. Morgan was saying something to Beth who was shaking her head and glaring back at him. Her eyes met his from across the room for a brief moment and Daryl could see her resolve wavering at the information Maggie had revealed. Morgan said something else and her face hardened before she turned and stormed out of the room. Daryl wasted no time chasing after her.

"Beth," he called out to her as soon as he exited the building.

"You're all in danger because of us!" Beth spun around and yelled at him.

"We'll figure somethin' out," Daryl replied; attempting to soothe her as he approached, "You said you'd trust us t'handle them."

"I  _do_ trust you," she argued, her eyes glossy with unshed tears, "but they made an example out of The Kingdom, Daryl. They did that t'prove we weren't safe, even behind these walls."

"What're you wantin' to do?" He asked her sincerely.

"What do you mean?" Her face crumpled in confusion.

"What do you wanna' do?" He repeated, "If you wanna' run, I'm comin' with you."

"What?" The blond strands of her hair shifted across her face as she shook her head, "You can't…it's not safe t'be with me. Morgan and I…we can't let what happened in The Kingdom happen to this community, just because of  _us_."

Daryl had experienced life without Beth and he had no intention of doing so ever again. Not now that he had her back. Not after everything they'd been through. Not after that brief moment of happiness that he'd had with her in his bathroom.

"Where you go, I go," he said simply.

Tears spilled down Beth's cheeks and for a moment he thought he'd said something wrong. Then she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and when she had calmed down, he loosened his grip just enough to see her face. She looked up at him with her sparkling blue eyes and he reached up with one hand, using his thumb to brush away the trails of liquid staining her cheeks.

"I don't want anyone else t'die because of us," she whispered weakly.

"We're gonna' figure this out," Daryl brushed her hair out of her face, "Me and Rick, we been through worse than this and we've always come out alright."

Beth nodded and he felt her body relax under his hands.

"We should head back inside," Daryl stated when he was sure Beth had calmed down, "We still got some things t'discuss and Morgan's probably worried about ya'."

"Yeah," Beth sighed, "He prone t'worry too much."

Daryl smirked, "Only 'cause he cares."

Beth's lips quirked in the slightest hint of a smile and Daryl dropped his hands away from her side.

"Come'on," he jerked his head towards the office and turned to lead them back inside.

His steps slowed when he didn't hear Beth walking behind him and he looked over his shoulder to find her eyes already fixed on him. He kept his gaze locked with hers as she slowly drew near him.

"I do trust you," she admitted solemnly.

"I know," Daryl replied evenly.

"I'm just scared," she confessed wearily.

Daryl wanted to tell her he would never let anything happen to her, but memories of carrying her out of Grady Memorial Hospital rose to the forefront of his mind. He wanted to say that he would protect her from whatever harm the Whisperers brought her way, but as his eyes lingered on the dark bruise forming around her neck, the words died in his mouth. The world was unforgiving and things happened in the blink of an eye. Clenching his jaw, his gaze traveled up her face and he stared into her deep, blue eyes.

"As long as I'm still breathin', I'll do whatever it takes t'keep you safe," he vowed sincerely.

Beth lifted herself on her toes and he met her halfway. The caress of their lips was brief, but it held more emotion than any of the kisses they'd shared. When he pulled away, she gave him a smile that reached her eyes and then began walking into Rick's office.

He followed behind her as they reentered the room and Morgan's concerned regard caught his attention. The older man gave him a nod and Daryl returned the gesture. The simple exchange spoke volumes to Daryl. There was an understanding between them that while everyone's safety was a concern, their main priority would always be Beth.

Daryl moved to the back of the room, where he'd been previously standing, and leaned against the wall. There was a lull in the meeting while Rick and Michonne discussed something privately behind his desk and Daryl glared down at his feet, replaying the conversation she'd had with Beth outside. He'd never meant anything more in his life than the last words he'd said to her. He would do everything in his power to protect her. He never wanted to return to the hollow, empty life he'd had the years following Beth's 'death.' Not after having a taste of what his life could be like  _with_  her. He would protect her, even if it killed him. He would keep this promise or he would die trying.

_Because to Daryl, a life without Beth wasn't worth living._

...

 **A/N:** For all of my inquiring readers/preppers who wonder how Eugene made his 'fuel depot,' I found a video on Youtube by a MrTeslonian on how to create bio crude oil and turn it into usable fuel. I googled 'how to create gasoline' and was linked to MrTeslonian's YouTube video (for those who want a summary, he basically uses the smoke from burning wood to create crude oil which he then refines into a gasoline). There are other ways to make fuel, but I thought it was best to go with wood because the area is so populated with trees and I already have Eugene using plastic and other misc 'trash' for lighter fluid and such. There is A LOT of work and science that goes into creating this fuel, but I'd like to think that if companies are no longer producing, mankind would have the ingenuity to create their own with materials they scavenge. So this video is what I used for reference!

Cooper is an original character from chapter 6 (the man who approaches Beth and Morgan about going on patrol that ultimately ends up costing Morgan his arm).

The description of Maggie's tale of Jesus (real name Paul Monroe) is straight from the comics summary courtesy of TWD wikia ([here](http://walkingdead.wikia.com/wiki/The_Whisperers%20)).

**I have a new job I'm starting in about a week. It's going to be my first full-time job in what seems like forever so updates my be sporadic until the boys and I have adjusted to a new schedule! Just letting you guys know in case I get a few days behind on posting a new chapter. Know that they are coming, I just might need a bit more time to write since I won't have as flexible of a schedule as I do now.**

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I know some of you have been waiting for the moment Beth and Daryl got all kissy-faced for a while now so I hope this satisfies your shipping hearts! I changed the ending for this chapter at least ten times before I felt this one was acceptable so please share you thoughts! I'm behind on last weeks reviews so I'll be getting back to you guys over the next day or two for last week and this weeks reviews! XOXO


	18. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:**  A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.

An extra special thank you to my awesome BETA  **Nicole**  for looking over this and supporting/encouraging me to keep going even though life and work have taken so much of my writing time! Also thank you to  **Sarakaroline8**  for reading over this and ensuring me that I haven't lost my touch! You both are amazing!

**A/N:** So I'm still alive! This chapter took so much longer than I anticipated to get posted, but I finally got it done! Between working in the classroom and the work I have to do after school, plus finding time to write, spend time with my kiddos, and enjoy down-time for myself; there just haven't been enough hours in the day! I would like to post every 2 weeks, but I just don't think that's feasible with schedule, SO! I'm planning on posting once a month, on the LAST SUNDAY of that month. That gives me plenty of time to get work/writing/down-time/family time taken care of without neglecting any of them. So look for another update on November 29th and I hope you enjoy this chapter! It was a beast to write!

...

Beth swung her arm and lodged the blade of her forearm machete into a wooden post that Daryl had constructed for her to use in their makeshift training facility. She was still careful not to pull at the wound on her side, but it had scabbed over several days ago and there were already traces of newly formed skin underneath. The steady rhythm of someone striking a punching bag could be heard from the back of the room and there was a man and woman having a quiet conversation while they lifted weights across from her. The training facility was that of an unfinished house, as the few frames of what would have been interior walls lacked insulation or dry wall, and there were gaping, rectangular spaces along the outside of the building, devoid of glass panes, that allowed a slight breeze to flow through the building. Yanking her blade free, she wiped her brow with her unused hand, glared at the wooden post, and swung once more.

It had been nearly a week since their radio conference about the Whisperers with the Hilltop colony and she'd only seen Daryl and Morgan a handful of times since. They would come to her with inquiries during which Morgan had been unconscious for in their first altercation with the Whisperers, but for the most part, she had been left to her own devices. She had been asked to attend their meetings, they'd even sought her out several times to ask specific strategic questions, but Beth wasn't a strategist. She'd had her moments where she'd been able to devise a plan that kept them alive, but she preferred to follow Morgan's lead. The world they lived in now might have been the only one she remembered, but he'd still 'lived' in it longer than she had. She trusted his judgment and experience more than her own. The idea of someone losing their life because of a plan she implemented wasn't something she wanted on her conscience. Thus, she chose to keep her skills as sharp as her blade, using the time they were sitting idle, planning strategies for hypothetical situations, to train with her machete and try to build her endurance. While being left alone wouldn't have bothered Beth before reconnecting with the people of her past, she was surprised with herself at how… _lonely_  she'd felt throughout the week.

She could count on one hand the number of words she exchanged with Daryl the past few days, having not seen him at all in the last twenty-four hours, and Beth felt an uneasiness growing in her stomach. Beth wasn't knowledgeable when it came to having relationships and with everything happening with the Whisperers, they hadn't been able to sort out where they stood after their exchange in his bathroom. She'd at least seen Morgan every day, having moved all of her belongings back to the house they shared in order to help him grow accustomed to his new lifestyle. He'd been struggling with having only one arm, wearing a rigged prosthetic that Eugene had manufactured to aide him until they could make a trip to Hilltop where Carl could get his measurements for the weaponized arm Daryl had mentioned all those weeks ago. There had been several times she'd see him attempt to open a door or reach out to pat her on the head, only to have the stub of his arm freeze in mid-air. There were even times where she would catch him massaging his limb, claiming he felt a burning sensation in the portion of his arm that had been amputated from his body. Dr. Hudson had said it was 'normal,' something he referred to as 'phantom limb pain,' and it should go away in due time. Beth knew it was going to be just as much of an adjustment for her, as she would need to be more aware of Morgan and his capabilities when they were outside of the walls to ensure he stayed out of harm's way. However every time he attempted to use the arm he no longer had or pain crossed his features, Beth felt her resentment grow.

Lashing out with her machete, removing a chunk of cedar from the post, Beth grit her teeth and exhaled harshly. She was angry, frustrated, confused, and so  _tired_ of the Whisperers constant, looming presence. They were always at the forefront of her mind and now that everyone finally understood just how dangerous they were, with The Kingdom's downfall, they were the topic of every conversation she'd had the past week.

"What'd that post ever do to you?" The snarky question came from behind her.

Beth huffed, blowing the loose strands of her braid out of her face, and yanked her machete free from the battered cedar trunk. Tilting her head from side to side, relieving some of the tension in her shoulders, she turned to face her visitor.

"What d'you want?" Beth blinked as a droplet of sweat cascaded into her eye.

"Came to check on you," Michonne answered curtly; crossing her arms as her eyes dropped to the barely visible bruise that still lingered around Beth's neck.

"'M fine," Beth stated and turned back to the wooden post while grumbling under her breath, "not that it should matter t' _you_."

Beth hadn't spoken with Michonne since they had arrived back in Alexandria. She'd had indirect words with her during the few meetings she'd attended, but for the most part, Beth had steered clear of the katana wielder. Her first encounter with the older woman had left quite an impression on her and while Daryl and everyone else openly trusted and valued Michonne's opinion, Beth was still leery of her.

Flexing her fingers around the grip of her brace, trying to shrug off the intensity of Michonne's stare, Beth breathed in deeply and widened her stance in preparation to land another strike against her makeshift target. Swinging her arm forward, yanking it free, and then landing a backhanded slice against the wood did nothing to quell the irritation flickering inside of her. The longer Michonne stood there, watching, the more annoyed Beth became. Cedar splinters littered the ground as Beth slowly hacked away at her wooden enemy. She continued landing strike after strike, rearing back and throwing her weight into each swing until she finally sliced the post in half. The training facility grew deathly quiet as the dismembered half of the cedar trunk thudded to the ground. Leaning over to rest her hands on her knees, mindful of the blade still latched to her arm, she watched the droplets of sweat drip from her chin to leave circular stains on the concrete flooring. Willing the numbness out of her legs, she slowed her breathing, and sluggishly raised herself to stand on unsteady feet.

"I said I'm  _fine_ ," Beth repeated as she glared over her shoulder in the direction of where Michonne still stood.

"Don't look fine to me," came Michonne's brisk remark.

Beth half turned and queried, "What does it matter t'you anyway?"

Michonne uncrossed her arms and looked Beth over from head to toe.

Beth stood tall, refusing to shift under the older woman's scrutiny, and waited for Michonne's reply.

"We didn't get the best… _reacquaintance_ ," Michonne stated matter-of-factly.

"And whose fault was that?" Beth inquired crudely.

There was a pause and Beth noticed several people had moved within hearing distance. Each of them huddled together in small groups, whispering amongst themselves in a tone too low for her to hear, but she knew from their furtive glances that they were discussing her and Michonne's tense interaction. The scraping of a heel against concrete brought Beth's attention back to the woman in front of her as Michonne slowly approached. Tightening her hold on the grip of her machete, she fought the urge to take a step back and reclaim the distance that had been between them.

"I've been on the opposite end of that machete," Michonne gestured towards her blade, "You've got some skill."

"Didn't have much choice but to learn how t'defend myself if I wanted to survive," Beth remarked solemnly.

Michonne stopped a few paces in front of her and seemed to be weighing the gravity of Beth's reply. Beth felt tension curling in her muscles and busied herself by counting the thrumming of her heartbeat as it thundered in her ears. Her fight or flight response was taking hold, causing her to dig her toes into the sole of her boots so that she would be ready to move in whichever direction she needed in order to evade an attack.

"I noticed when we fought that you left yourself vulnerable a couple of times," Michonne continued quietly, "If I hadn't been so exhausted, you wouldn't still be here."

"Am I supposed to thank you?" Beth's words echoed through the stillness of the room.

Michonne quirked an eyebrow as she stared down at Beth, but whatever she was thinking never made it past her lips.

There was a small crowd encircling them now and Beth's nerves were hyperaware of every voice quietly murmuring, every shift in body movement, and the invisible tension reverberating through the room.

"I've had some formal training in self-defense," Michonne finally broke the silence that had overtaken them, "I took a few classes back in college. I could teach you some moves so you'd know what to do if you ever get pinned down again."

Beth took a moment to consider her offer. She trusted Morgan…Daryl…Rick and the rest of the group had proven themselves to be trustworthy, but she wasn't sure about Michonne. She had been forced to rely on Michonne back at The Kingdom because of their situation, but they were no longer running for their lives. The fact of the matter was that Michonne had attacked her, unprovoked, and Beth was carrying a grudge. She was fully aware that the sword wielder wasn't one to be trifled with. As much as it pained her to admit, Michonne was deadly with her katana and just as the older woman had stated, it was very likely she would have slayed Beth if she'd been in a more stable state of being. Granted Beth wasn't at one hundred percent either and her condition put her at a vast disadvantage, but she'd felt how powerful the strikes against her machete had been. Michonne was one to be wary of and Beth didn't want to put herself in a compromising situation that left her at another person's mercy, even under the premise of 'training.' Morgan had put her through hell teaching her how to survive and it was  _his_  instruction that had kept her alive the past few years.

"No thanks," Beth refused, "I've survived just fine on my own."

"You can't feel pain, you start going numb, and eventually your body gives out on you if you exert yourself too long," Michonne listed off on her fingers, "You have to end the fight quick, make every strike a lethal one, and end it before you collapse."

"How tha' hell d'you know about any of that?" Beth snarled heatedly.

"I talked to Morgan," Michonne answered, "I know all about your… _condition_."

Beth bit the inside of her cheek, tasting copper across her tongue, and glowered at the woman standing in front of her. There were so many thoughts running through her head at the moment, but she voiced the one that seemed most imperative.

"And what do you get out 'ah helpin' me?" Beth asked suspiciously.

"Forgiveness," Michonne answered flatly.

Beth narrowed her eyes, "Forgiveness?"

"I've already tried apologizing, but words have little value to someone if they don't trust the person speaking them," Michonne explained, "I'll help you refine your skills as penance for attacking you."

There was a tiny, hopeful part of Beth that  _wanted_  to believe Michonne, but she had learned the hard way that the part of her that had faith in other people was generally what got her in life-threatening situations.

"If Daryl hadn't come, I would'ah figured somethin' out," Beth tried to sound confident in her lie.

If Daryl hadn't come to help her, it was very likely that she would have taken another shot to the head in order to ensure she didn't rise from her grave.

"I don't want your help," Beth continued, forcing away her thought, "I don't  _need_  your help."

"Then prove it," Michonne countered with a shrug.

"S'cuse me?"

"Fight me and prove you don't need my help," Michonne elaborated.

"Fine," Beth huffed and reached to unhook the buckles of her brace.

"Leave it on," Michonne interrupted.

" _What_?" Beth's eyes snapped from her machete to Michonne.

"Your machete," Michonne gestured towards her blade, "leave it on."

"You want me to fight you with my machete?" Beth couldn't help the suspicious tone in her voice.

Michonne stepped back, causing the people around them to fan out and create large ring around them, while slowly unsheathing her katana.

"Are you  _crazy_?" Beth spat as her heart once again started pounding in her chest, "We should use a tree limb or fight hand to hand or something other than  _this_."

"We would do those things," Michonne began smoothly, " _if_ we were training, but you said you didn't need any more of that."

"And I'm not going to fight you,  _with_  my machete, just to prove I don't need your help," Beth argued, "One wrong move and one of us could be killed."

"Then I suggest you don't make any 'wrong moves,'" Michonne countered with a smirk as she lowered her stance, "It's simple. If you win, I'll leave you be. If I win, you let me train you."

Beth's stomach dropped to her feet. It was obvious that she wasn't going to get out of this without a fight, but she couldn't understand Michonne's hostility. Daryl trusted her, Rick obviously respected her, and the entire community had been happy to see her when they had all arrived back from The Kingdom. Michonne was supposed to be an  _ally_. She wasn't supposed to be attacking people, within the wall, just so she could decide whether they needed to be 'trained' or not.

"I'm not-"

The rest of Beth's statement was lost in the sound of a katana blade slicing through the air and grinding against the edge of her machete.

…

Daryl sat in Rick's chair; feet stretch out in front of him and crossed atop of Rick's desk. He was listening as Carol and Sherry discussed details about the information that had been relayed between Alexandria and Hilltop after their meeting had ended. It had been another day of talking strategy, going over everything they knew, and trying to pinpoint where the Whisperers main encampment might have been according to the direction most of the walkers had been seen. Rick had decided to pull all patrols off the roads for the time being and thus walkers had been seen roaming near the walls more frequently.

Morgan had been helpful during the strategy meetings, revealing anything and everything he knew that could aide them in determining what would be the best course of action in whichever situation, but Daryl wasn't sure they'd ever be prepared for what the Whisperers brought to them after witnessing what he had at the Kingdom. The idea that those people could take survivors from The Kingdom to use as bait to lure the herd in the direction they wanted them to maneuver made his stomach turn.

"So they still haven't gotten much out of the girl?" Carol asked quietly.

"Maggie's hasn't been able to get her to say much of anything," Sherry replied wearily, "but it seems like she's a bit more open with Carl. I think she's changing tactics and letting him interrogate her this afternoon."

Carol and Barbara's voice became a low murmur as Daryl closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the soft cushion of Rick's rolling chair. He had a slight headache from lack of sleep and he was beginning to go stir crazy from being cooped up inside the walls. He hadn't been to his deer stand in over a month and the solitude of the woods beckoned him, however he knew it was too dangerous to try and sneak out. The Whisperers were after Beth and regardless of how much he wanted to escape the confines of the walls with her; he would never endanger her life in such a way. There would be time for that after the Whisperers were no longer a threat to her or the community.

Running a hand down his face, he took a deep breath and tried to recall the last conversation he'd actually had with her. He'd been so busy with meetings, trying to find time to sleep, and making sure shifts along the wall were in order, that he hadn't been able to spend much time with Beth. She'd been invited to join all the meetings and he'd had to track her down himself a couple of times with questions Morgan didn't have the answer to, but he hadn't been able to really spend time with her since their moment at his house when they'd gotten back from The Kingdom.

Opening his eyes and staring up at the off-white ceiling of Rick's office, Daryl let his thoughts drift to where Beth might be and what she was doing while he was stuck waiting for Rick to finish talking with Carl over the radio. He'd asked Dwight to keep tabs on her, but he hadn't heard from his second-in-command since he'd reported that she had left the training facility and returned home safely last night. Almost as if his thoughts had summoned him, Dwight burst through the doors to Rick's office.

"Daryl!" Dwight's voice was slightly panicked and his chest heaved from exertion.

"Dwight?" Daryl immediately shot up from where he'd be lounging and crossed the room, "What is it?"

"Beth," Dwight huffed, bending over and bracing his hands on his knees.

"Beth?" Daryl felt his hands shaking, "What about 'er? She okay? What happened?"

"She's fine," Dwight waved one hand as he continued to gasp in air, "For tha' moment."

"What tha' fuck is that supposed t'mean?" Daryl grabbed the other man by the shoulders and forced him to stand.

"Dwight?" Sherry's concerned voice came from behind them, "What's going on?"

"Michonne and Beth are fighting," Dwight glanced over to his wife before returning his gaze to Daryl's distraught features.

"What do you mean  _fighting_?" Carol piped in, "Like sparing? Training? What?"

"Like Michonne is swingin' her sword around an' Beth is trying t'cut her in half with her machete," Dwight rattled out quickly.

" _Son of 'ah…_ ," Daryl cursed and shoved Dwight to the side as he rushed through the door.

Daryl's legs carried him as fast as he could run through town to the unfinished home that had been repurposed to become their training facility. There was already a crowd gathered in front of the building and Daryl could hear the hissing of steel sliding against steel coming from within. He was trying to push his way through the crowd when a body flew through the doorway of the building, skidded across the dirt, and used the momentum to roll propel themselves backwards onto their feet. The crowd around them shrieked and yelled as Daryl watched the scene before him in horror.

Beth turned her head and spat dark crimson onto the ground; slowly lifting her free hand to wipe away the blood trickling down her chin. Her shirt was torn, her hair was wild, and the look on her face was that of one he'd never seen before. His gaze shifted to the building as Michonne leisurely exited through the doorway, katana hung over her shoulder, and a blank expression on her face.

"Michonne," Daryl hollered, but his voice was swallowed by the uproar of the crowd.

Shoving people aside with more force, Daryl fought his way through the throng of spectators, and just as he was about to break through, a hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him to a halt. Jerking his head to the side, Daryl was surprised to find Morgan standing next to him.

"What…," Daryl began to ask, but stopped when he noticed that Morgan's sharp gaze was focused on the two women in front of them.

Daryl turned his attention back towards Beth just in time to see her surge forward and sling her machete at Michonne's face. Daryl's stomach clenched as he was sure Beth's blade was going to make contact, but Michonne managed to block the strike with her katana.

"Why aren't you doin' anything t'stop this?" Daryl hollered over the crowd.

Beth dropped down and swung her leg across the ground, catching Michonne's right foot and making her stumble backwards. However, Michonne quickly recovered and held her blade overhead before thrusting downward to Beth's crouched form. Another spasm seized his stomach as Beth lifted her braced arm and used the metal plate along her forearm to block the blow a few inches from her face. She then jarred her arm upwards, relinquishing contact with the katana, and then made a quick swipe for Michonne's midsection. Michonne bent slightly forward and leapt herself backwards, barely escaping Beth's machete and it sliced through the material of her shirt.

Daryl grabbed Morgan's hand, intent on removing it from his shoulder and intervening in the fight, when he saw it.

"She  _needs_  this," Morgan said from behind him as they watched Beth stagger on her feet.

Michonne, recovering from Beth's attack, lunged forward and landed another strike against the brace of Beth's machete. She followed with another strike and Daryl could see how much Beth was struggling to move. She was beginning to slow, her swings weren't as powerful as they had been a moment ago, and she was no longer able to dodge any of Michonne's attacks.

Beth swayed to the right, sloppily swiping her blade toward Michonne, who easily deflected the attack. Beth's arm was flung to the side and Michonne took the opening, lifting her leg and kicking Beth squarely in the chest. The crowd split, allowing room for Beth as she rolled helplessly across the ground. Michonne moved to stand over Beth's prone form with one foot placed over her braced arm and the tip of her blade resting against the barely visible bruise on Beth's neck. Everyone had grown eerily silent and Daryl felt Morgan's hand slowly slide off of his shoulder. He pushed his way through the rest of the crowd and saw that Michonne had retracted her blade, instead holding out an open hand towards Beth.

"Looks like you and I will be spending a lot of time together," Michonne's voice came out slightly uneven from exertion.

Daryl watched Beth slowly pushed herself up on her elbows, her blue eyes shining as she glared up at the older woman. Michonne only wiggled her fingers in the air, urging Beth to take it, as a smirk formed across her lips.

After several moments, Beth let out a sigh and reached up to grasp Michonne's hand. Once Beth was on her feet, Michonne retracted her hand and gave the blond an appraising look. She then turned and Daryl knew the exact moment when she found his gaze. Scowling, he waited as Michonne approached him.

"What tha' hell was that?" Daryl grumbled crossly.

" _That_ ," Michonne began while propping a hand on her hip and lifting her chin defiantly, "was me ensuring that she'd let me give her the training she needs."

Daryl couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice when he asked, "By sparrin' with  _weapons_?"

"She wasn't going to be as serious if we were fighting with sticks," Michonne replied with a tilt of her head, "I couldn't determine her limits if she wasn't giving it her all."

"You should'ah known her limits from when you fought with her at The Kingdom," he proclaimed thoughtlessly.

Daryl held his glare as Michonne's expression crumbled and she closed the distance between them.

"If I had known it was really her, I  _never_  would have attacked," she hissed through clenched teeth.

Daryl bit the inside of his cheek, knowing that nothing he said could repair the damage of his tactless remark.

"You weren't the only one who lost her, ya' know?" Michonne's voice shook as she spoke.

Daryl swallowed dryly as Michonne took a step to the side and bumped her shoulder against his as she walked past him in the direction of Rick's office.

When he could no longer hear the crunch of Michonne's boots against the gravel, he managed to reply with a despondent, "I know."

He was fully aware of how important Beth had been, and still was, to everyone in their group. Michonne and Beth had gotten close a few months before the fall of the prison. He could remember several occasions where he had walked past Beth's cell and had seen Michonne sitting on the cold, concrete floor, helping her with Judith. Michonne had even started checking in with Beth before they went on supply runs to see if she needed anything in particular. To anyone else, it probably wouldn't have seemed like such an important detail, but Daryl knew Michonne. For her to seek out Beth and make sure she had everything she needed when they had an entire community to take care of showed how attached Michonne had gotten to the blonde.

Lost in his thoughts, he stood in the same place Michonne had left him, staring at the ground until a pair of familiar boots came into his line of sight.

"She's waitin' on you," Morgan's deep voice penetrated his reverie.

Daryl's eyes traveled up from the ground to glance over Morgan's shoulder.

"She's ain't in tha' best mood," Morgan warned him with a bit of mirth, "She don't take too fondly to being beat."

"Yeah," Daryl grunted, "I'm well aware 'ah how stubborn them Greene girls can be."

Morgan gave him a lopsided smile, "I s'pose you are."

With that, Morgan turned to look over at Beth before turning and patting Daryl on the shoulder, "Hopefully you have better luck with her than I did."

Daryl nodded in reply and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he made his way over to where Beth still stood.

"That Michonne's a  _real_  charmer," Beth grumbled as she unbuckled the clasps of her brace.

Her jeans were covered in dirt, her shirt was missing a few buttons and her stomach was visible through a slash in the material, but apart from the smeared blood across her chin, there didn't seem to be any major injuries.

"You okay?" He asked with a frown.

"I've had worse," she replied with a shrug as she slipped her arm out of the brace of her machete.

"Come'on," he reached out and took the blade from her, "Let's get that lip cleaned up."

He took a few steps, but stopped and half turned when he noticed Beth wasn't trailing behind him.

"You comin'?" He asked as he furrowed his brows.

Something he couldn't discern crossed her features before she eventually began moving in his direction. Daryl stole glances over his shoulder as they made their way towards his house, but Beth kept her glare trained on the ground.

Reaching the stairs to his porch, he pulled the front door open and stepped aside to allow Beth room to enter first. Placing her machete on the small coffee table in his living room, he wandered towards his bathroom where he could hear the opening and shutting of cabinets. Beth had his first aid kit sitting on the sink and was in the midst pouring alcohol onto a clean washcloth. Leaning against the door jam, he watched as she slowly wiped away the crimson residue that had discolored her skin. She had yet to speak to him and he got the impression that there was something more to her discontent than just her fight with Michonne.

"So were you in on tha' whole 'have Michonne kick my ass t'prove I can't take care of myself' plan?" Beth grumbled; meeting his gaze through the reflection of the mirror.

Daryl's eyebrows quirked in surprise, "Didn't know nothin' about it 'til I saw the two 'ah you fightin'."

She kept her eyes on him for a few more seconds before seeming to be pleased with his answer and returning her attention to her lip.

"You wanna' talk about it?" Daryl offered uncertainly.

"Nope," Beth replied straightaway.

Daryl noticed the tightening of her jaw and how the hand near her lip clenched tightly around the pink-tinged washcloth she was holding. While Beth was different in some ways, she was still the same in others. He could tell that she really  _did_  want to tell him, but she was being stubborn. Thus he decided to wait quietly and not force the subject. After a few moments, his tactic proved fruitful and Beth sighed heavily before she began rambling.

"Apparently I don't know how t'defend myself and need trainin' from the  _one_  person who tried t'kill me just 'ah few days ago," she turned on the cold water and began rinsing out the washcloth, "I refused her offer an' she refused t'take no for an answer.  _Then_  she tells me that she went t'Morgan and asked him all about my condition. She thinks she can teach me how t'end 'ah fight quick, before my body gives out, and it turns out that Morgan agreed with her. Said he thought she could 'teach me a few moves.' Didn't even bother t'ask what I wanted. Just took it upon themselves t'decide for me."

Daryl pushed off the door moved to stand closer to her. Slowly prying the washcloth from her hand, he tossed it in the sink and gently ran his thumb across the swollen area near her lip.

"Michonne hasn't survived as long as she has without gettin' good with that sword of hers," Daryl replied sagely.

Beth narrowed her eyes and took a step back, "So you don't think I can defend myself either then?"

"I never said that," Daryl refuted reclaiming his place in front of her, "I do know that you an' Michonne were pretty close before. She just wants t'make sure that any time you leave these walls, you come back in one piece."

He felt guilty, jumping to conclusions when he'd first come across Beth and Michonne fighting, but the more he pieced together through his conversations with the two women, the more he understood the motives behind the altercation. He'd have to make some sort of half-assed apology to Michonne later. For now, he wanted Beth to understand that even though he believed she could handle herself, training with Michonne could be beneficial for the both of them.

"So you think I should accept her help?" Beth inquired meekly.

"Can't hurt, can it?" Daryl countered with his own question.

Beth just glared at him, lifting a finger to point to the broken skin of her lip.

Daryl smirked, "I s'pose you might get a few scrapes and bruises, but if anyone knows how t'handle 'ah blade, it's Michonne. She'll take care of ya'."

"Fine," Beth heaved, "but I'm only doin' this because she kicked my ass and I have t'even the score."

Daryl's smirk widened into a roughish smile as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

He felt Beth lean into him before she stepped back and gave him a puzzled look, "Don't you have some meetin' you're supposed t'be at?"

"Yeah," Daryl answered roughly, "You wanna' come with me?"

Beth hesitated a moment, her eyes dancing between his, before she gave him a half smile, "Sure."

Daryl furrowed his brows as she skimmed past him, unsure of the sudden change in her attitude, and turned off the water before exiting the bathroom. Beth was waiting for him on the porch and after locking his front door, they walked side by side back towards Rick's office. His hand brushed against hers several times before he felt something warm fit against his palm. He let his eyes travel over the houses they passed, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, as he interlaced his fingers with hers.

"By the way," Beth said as they approached their destination, "I'm stayin' at your place tonight."

Daryl glanced down at her, but she kept her gaze ahead of them.

"I'm still mad at Morgan for goin' behind my back tha' way he did," she elaborated, finally looking up at him, "and I'm not in the mood t'have dinner with him and Carol tonight."

"Alright," Daryl nodded, "but Carol's 'ah pretty damn good cook."

"I know," Beth deflated a bit, "I've had her cookies."

Daryl smirked and squeezed her hand, "Aaron and Eric got back today. We could go t'his place for dinner. He wants t'meet you and it'd be as good 'ah time as any."

Beth smiled, "I'd like that."

"I'll let him know," Daryl replied, "He should be at tha' meeting."

Beth nodded and wrapped her fingers more tightly around his hand.

Daryl wouldn't ever tell her aloud, but he was glad that she had decided to take Michonne up on her offer. Their last run-in with the Whisperers was one he  _never_  wanted to experience again and if Michonne could teach her how to become more effective on the limited time she had during a fight, he would help in any way he could. Michonne was proficient with a blade and while Beth wasn't fighting with a katana; their weapons were still very similar.

Beth kept ahold of his hand as they entered the building. He greeted Sherry with a nod of his head and pushed through the double doors to Rick's office. He spotted Michonne across the room and tugged Beth in her direction. She was leaning against the wall behind Rick's desk, refusing to make eye contact with him, but he could see the tension in her muscles as they approached.

"Can I help you?" Michonne questioned coolly while looking out over the room.

"You said ya' could," Beth answered before Daryl could reply.

Michonne's eyes flashed towards Beth.

"I know you beat me t'prove a point," Beth continued, "If I ever came across someone like you outside these walls, I wouldn't stand 'ah chance."

Michonne pushed off the wall, crossing her arms in front of her while she listened to Beth.

"If you're willin' to teach me how t'fight," Beth's voice sounded steady despite the slight shake he felt in her hand, "then I'd like t'learn."

Michonne looked her over from head to toe, "Alright."

"Alright," Beth repeated.

"Meet me behind the stables tomorrow at sunrise," Michonne instructed, "We'll start with the basics."

"Okay," Beth responded concisely.

An awkward silence followed as Michonne continued to ignore him.

"I've gotta' ask Michonne somethin'," Daryl said, turning to Beth, "I'll find you soon as I'm done."

Beth glanced between the two of them, seeming to have picked up on the tension radiating between them, and gave him a quick nod. Once Beth was out of earshot, Daryl turned his attention back to Michonne.

"You wouldn't have had anything to do with her sudden change in attitude, would you?" Michonne inquired suspiciously.

"I might 'ah told her that you knew your shit and would be able t'help her," Daryl shrugged and languidly glanced around the room.

"Figured out you fucked up, huh?" He could hear the mocking tone in her voice.

"I dunno' what you're talkin' about," Daryl feigned ignorance.

"Sure," Michonne replied with a roll of her eyes.

The strain between them evaporated and they lapsed into a relaxed silence.

Daryl had always respected Michonne. They'd made a good team when they had went on supply runs together and like him, she wasn't one who cared for conversations. He'd made a mistake when he'd jumped to conclusions after he'd seen her fighting with Beth and she recognized his attempt to make things right. It wasn't an outright apology, but Michonne had forgiven his indiscretion all the same.

"I'll make sure she's never in a position like she was back at The Kingdom," Michonne informed him.

"I know," Daryl murmured in reply.

"I'll figure out a way to work around her condition," Michonne added.

"Let me know what I can do t'help," Daryl offered as his eyes scanned the room for the blonde they were discussing.

"We'll keep her safe," Michonne stated resolutely.

"I'll kill all of those bastards if that's what it takes," Daryl growled in response.

Silence resumed and Daryl found Beth standing along the back wall of the room, talking with Tara and Rosita.

"Go," Michonne insisted, "We're good."

Daryl nodded and began maneuvering around the bodies filling the room.

"Alright everyone," Rick's voice sounded from the front of the room, "I just got off the radio with Maggie."

Reaching Beth's side, she flashed him a quick smile as Rick continued, "Carl was able t'find out a bit of information from the Whisperer they've detained up at Hilltop."

Rick's tone told Daryl that whatever it was Carl had discovered; it wasn't good news.

"The girl's name is Lydia and she's about sixteen years old," Rick informed them.

"Well that doesn't seem so bad," Daryl heard Dwight say from somewhere to his left.

"She also told him that she's Alpha's daughter," Rick expressed solemnly.

Daryl looked down to Beth only to find her already staring up at him. The room erupted with people shouting questions and voicing their concerns. Morgan and Beth had given them as much information as possible about the Whisperers and their leader. Alpha was ruthless and believed that the walkers had granted them freedom from the shackles of society. Those who opposed her were either bled and turned to increase the numbers of their herd or became food for their undead army.

Beth had taken the life of her brother and the Whisperers had hunted her across the country. The Whisperers had made an example out of The Kingdom to show them that they weren't safe behind their walls. The fact that Maggie's community was holding the daughter of the Whisperer's leader hostage could only mean one thing.

_Hilltop was next._

...

**A/N:** And there you have it! I finally get to incorporate Michonne into my story, Beth is going to become even more kick ass, and we're learning more and more about the Whisperers! I hope this was worth the wait and I'll be posting chapter 18 on November 29th! I've missed you guys! I hope you've all be doing well and thank you to all of you who messaged me, checking in, and letting me know you missed my story! I You guys are amazing!


	19. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** A nod to the genius Robert Kirkman for creating this wonderfully dark, post-apocalyptic world. I do not own or have rights to any of the characters/plot of this series. I'm simply a fan indulging in my post-apocalyptic fantasies.4

...

Beth fell to her knees utterly exhausted.

"Again," a voice barked from behind her.

"I…" Beth breathed, "I jus' need…"

" _Again_ ," the voice persisted.

Leaning forward, her vision swam as black dots skated across the dry, cracked ground beneath her. Placing her hands down onto the warm dirt and pushed herself back to her feet. Michonne stood across from her, wooden sword raised in a defensive position, waiting for her to pick up where they had left off.

Bending down to pick up the wooden-blade-contraption Eugene had built for her to substitute as her forearm machete, Beth struggled to stand upright. Her limbs refused to cooperate and it took her a considerable amount of concentration to slide her right foot back into the stance Michonne had drilled into the past week. Every day they had met at sunrise and trained until sunset, only stopping to eat lunch when the sun was at its highest point in the sky. While Beth felt none of the pain she was sure her body had endured, she still felt the exhaustion that seemed to extend deep into the very marrow of her bones.

"Again," Michonne reiterated softly.

"This is stupid," Beth spat as she began going through the forms Michonne had taught her.

"Learning to defend yourself?" Michonne replied smartly.

"No," Beth growled, using her arm to block an oncoming strike, "Us being _here_ when we should be at Hilltop helping Rick."

Michonne lunged and it was all Beth could do to dodge her attack.

"Rick can handle himself," Michonne retorted, dropping to the ground and catching her boot across Beth's ankle.

Beth squeezed her eyes shut and felt the air forced from her lungs as her back abruptly came into contact with the ground.

"I'd be more concerned with yourself if I were you," Michonne stated as she stood over Beth's prone form and extended an open hand.

Beth grit her teeth and slowly slid her elbows against the gravel so she could push herself into a seated position.

Michonne kept her hand proffered; waiting for Beth to grab ahold. Sighing in exasperation, Beth reached up and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. Dusting off her jeans, she felt the and slow, deadening sensation that she had become accustomed to after exerting herself slither down her neck towards the tips of her fingers.

"You're lasting longer," Michonne commented and Beth followed her line of sight to see she was wiggling her fingers subconsciously.

"It's always gonna' happen," Beth tightened her hand into a fist, willing to feel the pressure of her fingers against her palm.

There was silence between them as the wind blew the fallen leaves across the flattened ground they had taken to training upon.

"We should take a break," Michonne suggested quietly.

Beth nodded and made her way toward the back wall of the stables where she'd dropped her bag that morning. She'd managed to only fumble on her feet twice before plopping down against the wooden structure that contained Alexandria's most valued creatures. Michonne sat a few feet down from her and was already rummaging through her pack. Beth followed suit, pulling out some bread and a canteen of water.

They didn't speak while they ate, as was the case with most meals, but there had been a question nagging Beth for the past few days that she wanted answered. Finishing her bread and saving the remainder of her water to last her the rest of the day, Beth returned to canteen to her pack and rested her elbows against her bent knees.

"Hey Michonne?" Beth began cautiously.

"Yeah?" Michonne answered almost immediately.

"Can I ask you somethin'?" She continued more certainly.

"You can ask, but I'm not sure I'll answer," Michonne replied with an unfamiliar lilt to her voice and Beth looked over to see her smirking.

Smiling, Beth looked up at the clear, blue sky and watched as a cloud slowly cast a shadow over them while passing in front of the sun.

"What's tha' real reason you were so adamant 'bout trainin' me?" Beth asked as the rays of sunshine filtered back through the sky.

She felt the warmth of the sun cascade across her face as the cool autumn breeze chilled her sun kissed skin. She waited patiently for Michonne to respond, hoping that she wouldn't be given the same mechanical answer she'd been fed a week ago.

"Back when we lived in the prison, you were sheltered from everything that happened outside of those concrete walls. You took care of Judith and helped with the other kids. You'd help the ladies in the kitchen, or offer to do the laundry, and you never once complained," Michonne's voice sounded distant as she spoke, "You pulled more than your weight making the prison into a home and you always made sure we had everything we needed when we went out on runs."

Beth turned her gaze away from the sky to look over at Michonne. While she had grown accustomed to hearing about the life she didn't remember, it was still bizarre to learn such intimate details about herself according to each person's perspective.

"When Maggie was captured by the Governor, you were the first to volunteer to go out and find her. If Judith needed something, you'd offer to go out with the runners and get it rather than just shoving the request off on someone else," Michonne continued, "but we never let you leave."

"Why not?" Beth found herself asking before she'd even processed her question.

"You were safe; you were still innocent to the depravity of the world," Michonne explained bitterly, "Your dad wanted to keep you from the true horrors happening outside of those walls. We learned that it wasn't the dead we needed to fear. Those who had survived were worse…so much worse."

Beth's eyes fell from Michonne's profile and turned towards the metal walls that separated them from the world Michonne described. Although she could picture no one other than Morgan as her 'father,' she felt a soft of longing for the man Michonne mentioned. Through her interactions with people from her past, she'd caught herself occasionally wishing she could remember what her life had been like _before_.

"We got too comfortable," Michonne's voice interrupted her thoughts, "We never thought the prison would fall and when it did, we weren't prepared. We had a plan, but nothing went the way it was supposed to. We all got separated-"

"I got out with Daryl," Beth offered what little she knew of when the prison fell.

Michonne nodded and elaborated, "He told me he taught you some things; basic tracking, how to wield his crossbow, and some simple traps. He wanted you to be able to defend yourself."

The more Michonne revealed; the more things began falling in place for Beth. Michonne might've been proficient of concealing her emotions, but the tightening around her eyes and the quiver in her voice clearly displayed her guilt.

"I had every opportunity to teach you what I knew, what had kept me alive, but I didn't. I don't know if training you would have made any difference or not. You might've been able to keep yourself from being abducted. You might've been able to take that cop out without getting shot. Things might've still happened the way they did, but we'll never know because I didn't _try_ ," Michonne stated through grit teeth, "We can't shelter people from this world and we can't count on others to be able to protect us from everything. People have to learn to defend themselves or this world will destroy them."

Beth listened intently; hanging on the older woman's every word. Michonne had always come across as cold, calculating even, but now Beth had a better understanding of the turmoil hidden beneath the sword wielder's stoic mask. Daryl had felt guilty for losing her; for not protecting her. Michonne's guilt stemmed from doing nothing when she could have made sure Beth was more prepared for life outside of the walls they believed would keep them safe.

"You never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory," Michonne's words were spoken barely above a whisper, but Beth was deaf to everything outside of the older woman's voice.

They sat in silence, staring up at the lone cloud floating across the sky. Letting the words sink in, she had slowly come to the realization that Michonne was being hard on her not only to amend a regret from her past, but to also insure Beth continued living even if she considered themselves strangers to one another.

With a newfound respect for her instructor, Beth stood and moved to stand in front of Michonne. Extending and open hand, much like Michonne had done earlier, Beth smiled, "Come'on. Break time is over an' you promised t'teach me more forms today."

She only had to wait a few seconds before Michonne took her hand and the two of them made their way back to their training grounds.

…

Daryl slumped in the chair he'd been occupying for most of the afternoon. The sun was beginning to set and he had yet to hear from Rick on the radio. They had agreed to contact at first light, then again at dusk and while the sun hadn't completely set, Daryl felt himself growing more and more impatient.

Lacing his fingers together, he pressed his knuckles against his lips as he bounced his right foot against the wooden floor. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there; glaring at the empty room before him, but the orange hue was barely visible through the sky when the sound of someone entering the front of the building broke his thoughts.

"Go on in, sweetheart," he heard Sherry say from outside the doorway.

There was a 'click,' followed by one of the double doors beginning to open to reveal a very dirty, very brightly smiling Beth.

"What tha' hell happened t'you?" Daryl said, abruptly pushing himself out of the rolling chair and rising to his feet.

"Michonne taught me 'ah couple of new techniques today," Beth replied as she glanced down at her appearance before turning her attention back to him, "I went by your house, but you weren't home. What're you still doin' here?"

"Rick hasn't checked in yet," Daryl answered gravely and glared down at the radio sitting in the middle of Rick's desk.

"How late is he?" Beth asked as she moved across the room to stand next to him.

"Late enough," Daryl replied, "He usually checks in when the sun's 'bout half set."

He could see Beth glancing out the window from his peripheral vision.

Daryl had a million different scenarios playing through his head as he calculated exactly how long it would take him to get to Hilltop. He had a 'go bag' packed and ready at all times and he had made a habit out of keeping the gas tank in his bike on full. All he would have to do was run to the house, grab his backpack, and he could be on his way in less than ten minutes. He could scout ahead, assess the situation, and then radio back to Dwight so he could assemble the masses.

"Maybe…," Beth's voice rang from beside him, "Maybe he's jus' busy or somethin'."

Daryl's focus strayed from the radio to Beth's sparkling, blue eyes.

Reaching up, he gently pushed a strand of golden hair that had fallen loose from her braid behind her ear. His hand lingered on her cheek while his eyes danced between the both of hers.

"What's gotten into you?" He couldn't help the skepticism in his tone.

The Beth with him now wasn't as naïve as the girl he'd known three years ago. This Beth was a realist. She placed her faith in very few people, she had a clear grasp of the dangers that lurked outside their walls, and she never allowed herself to truly feel safe in Alexandria. She wasn't devoid of hope, made apparent by her assuredness that Morgan would recover after their attack in the woods, but he had never heard her say anything remotely optimistic for someone else's sake.

"I jus' learned ah' few things today," she answered vaguely with a shrug.

"Like what?" Daryl's fingers ghosted down the side of her face as his hand returned to his side.

"That I shouldn't be so quick t'judge someone," she murmured, sliding up on the corner of the desk in front of him.

Daryl drew his eyebrows together, waiting for her to continue, but she ignored his gesture and changed the subject.

"We shouldn't worry yet," she expressed while removing her pack and dropping it to the floor beside Rick's desk, "You're always tellin' me how you an' Rick have survived all these horrible situations."

Daryl nodded and dropped his chin to his chest, glaring down at his boots.

He knew Beth was right. Their group had always managed to survive whatever ghastly situation they'd found themselves in, but Daryl had always been with him…or at least stumbled upon him when things were about to get worse. This time, Rick was in Hilltop with Maggie and Glenn while he was stuck in Alexandria, holding down the fort in Rick's stead. He knew he was needed behind these walls, but he couldn't help but think he'd be of more use if he'd gone with Rick.

"Hey," Beth's small, calloused hands cradled his face and gently forced his gaze away from the floor to where she was sitting in front of him, "Rick can handle himself, right?"

"Yeah," he rasped in agreement.

"If we haven't heard anythin' by midnight," she continued, "I'll go t'Hilltop with you."

Daryl smirked and stepped closer, "How'd you know I was plannin' on goin'?"

"'Cause it's what you do," Beth's half-smile rivaled his own, "If you think people you care about are in trouble, you're always tha' first to volunteer t'go help 'em."

One of Beth's thumbs brushed against the stubble that had grown across his jaw line while the other rested next to his lips. The smile had fallen from her lips, her eyes were locked on his, and he could tell she was waiting for something.

"Think you've got me all figured out, don't cha'?" He whispered hoarsely; running his hands over her dirt covered jeans to rest against the belt at the hem of her pants.

Pulling her closer, her knees brushing against the outside of his legs, he leaned forward a nudged her nose with his own.

"I think I'm gettin' there," her voice wavered as her lips brushed against his with each word she spoke.

"An' what about me?" He asked, placing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth before pulling back to stare into her eyes, "Think I know you?"

Beth blinked and Daryl felt his anticipation growing.

"I think you're getting' there," Beth rephrased with a small smile, "You know me better than anyone else."

Daryl kept the distance between them for a moment longer before his grip on her hips tightened and he pulled her against him. Her hands slid into his hair while his inched up the underside of her shirt. Her lips moved against his and he felt her shiver as his calloused hands explored the soft skin of her back. He hissed when her teeth sank into his bottom lip, causing his grip to tighten and to instinctively press himself tighter against her.

"Daryl," she said his name breathlessly.

"Yeah," he pulled back long enough to reply before pressing his lips to the underside of her jaw.

"We should…" she began, tilting her head back as she spoke.

"Yeah?" He questioned as his lips trailed down her neck.

He felt the vibration of her hum against his lips as he kissed his way back up her neck towards her mouth. Her fingers abandoned his hair and it was only when he felt a rush of cool air against his skin that he realized she had unbuttoned his long-sleeved shirt. Her hands left trails of fire across his skin as she slid them down his chest, over the toned muscles of his stomach, and stopped at the button of his tattered jeans. His jeans loosened around his waist and Daryl immediately froze.

"Daryl?" Her voice exuded her concern.

His hands slide from her back, landing on the edge of the desk where he braced himself.

"What is it?" She asked; her voice sounding a bit stronger than a moment before.

"Nothin'," he shook his head and lowered his forehead to rest against her shoulder, "It's nothin'."

"If you don't want to-"

"Oh I _do_ ," he interrupted, "Its jus' that on top 'ah Rick's desk, when anyone can walk in on us, isn't exactly how I imagined this goin'."

He felt her fingers brush against his stomach and he had to clench his teeth to keep himself from acting upon his urges. After a few moments, his jeans regained their place around his hips and Beth's warm hands encircled his waist.

"So…you've imagined it before?" He could hear the smirk in her voice.

Chuckling, he lifted his head from her shoulder and stood to his full height. He vainly attempted to hide his embarrassment whilst a warm sensation slowly crawled up the back of his neck and across his chest.

"Yeah," he lifted a hand to rub his neck, trying to relinquish some of the heat, "A couple 'ah times."

Beth's smirk widened.

His embarrassment was quickly forgotten when he realized the content of their conversation.

"Wait…how d'you know about-" he began, but was interrupted when a voice crackled over the radio.

"Daryl?"

"Fuckin' finally," Daryl sighed as he picked up the microphone and pressed the button to reply, "Glenn?"

Immediately releasing the reply button, Glenn's voice came back over the radio, "Yeah, I'm here."

"What tha' hell man?" Daryl hissed into the mic, "What took y'all so long? Where's Rick?"

There was a long pause before Glenn replied, "We met with Alpha earlier today."

Daryl's eyes flashed up to Beth's face. Her face had gone totally blank, the color slowly draining from her skin, leaving her looking ashen and frail.

"We gave her back her daughter, Lydia," Glenn continued, "Some bad shit has happened to her Daryl. I'm talkin' the kind of stuff that would send people to prison."

Daryl's grip on the mic tightened and he could hear how ragged Beth's breathing had become.

"Carl and her...they got close. _Really_ close," Glenn continued, "He argued with us for nearly an hour, wanting us to keep her at Hilltop, but we've got the rest of the community to think about."

"Glenn," Daryl could hear the microphone creaking under the strain of his grip, "What happened?"

"Rick went to go talk to Carl about Lydia and we couldn't find him," Glenn's audible sighed rattled through the radio, "Rick went out looking for him, but we're all pretty sure he went after Lydia."

Daryl glanced back up at Beth, who gave him a perceptible nod.

"I'll be there in an hour," Daryl replied, shutting off the radio and setting the mic down on the wooden desk.

"I've gotta' grab some stuff from my house and I'll be ready t'go," Beth said as she hopped down from the desk.

"Hell no," Daryl countered, "The Whisperers want you dead. I bring you with me; I might as well jus' hand you over to 'em."

"So you're gonna' leave me here?" Beth furrowed her brows and crossed her arms over her chest.

"There's no way I'm lettin' you anywhere near them," Daryl proclaimed, "Dwight'll look after ya'. You'll be safer in here than you will be out there."

"It's not your decision t'make," Beth objected, "I'm not stayin' here and letting you go out there by yourself."

"Have you lost yer' damn mind? Did you not hear what Glenn said?" Daryl's voice rose an octave, "The Alpha is at Hilltop. She wants you dead."

"You don't think I know that?" Beth threw her hands up in the air, "I told you. I'm tired of runnnin'. I'm not doin' it anymore. Rick's life could be in danger this very second and we're wastin' time here arguin'."

Daryl clenched his teeth, silently fighting a mental battle on whether Beth would indeed be safer in Alexandria or with him, where he could keep an eye on her. He could always bring her with him and have her stay behind, with Maggie, inside the walls. However, he quickly dismissed the thought, knowing Beth would refuse to let him face any kind of confrontation with the Whisperers while she hid in safety.

"You leave me an' I'll just follow you anyways," Beth raised her chin defiantly.

"Fine," Daryl relented grudgingly, "I'll wait for you at tha' house."

"Morgan will want t'know where I'm goin'," she announced tentatively, "and if I tell 'em, he's going to wanna' come with us."

Daryl braced his hands against Rick's desk and exhaled, "I'll have Michonne pick him up. She'd kill me if I ran off without 'er."

"Okay," Beth sounded slightly relieved, "I'll see you in a few?"

"Yeah," Daryl nodded, pushing off the desk and straightened his back, "Jus' take what ya' need."

Beth rolled her eyes, "This isn't my first trip outside tha' walls, ya' know?"

"Right," Daryl half-smiled, "Jus' habit."

Beth gave him a sad smile and took a step towards him, "We'll figure all this out."

"Yeah," Daryl groused sardonically.

"Hey," Beth's hand came to rest on his cheek, "I mean it. We'll get there. We'll find them."

Daryl's eyes fluttered shut as she wrapped her arms around him. His hands, dangling loosely at his side, rose to rest against her back ever so softly. She gave him a squeeze and he tightened his hold, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

Pulling back, she blinked up at him, "I'll tell Morgan what's goin' on and I'll meet you in 'ah few minutes."

"'Kay," Daryl replied and release his hold.

Gathering their belongings, Daryl followed Beth out of Rick's office and onto the front porch. Beth gave him a quick peck on the cheek before they went their separate ways. Having his essentials already packed, Daryl went straight to the house in which Michonne was currently residing. The quicker everyone got packed, the quicker they could get to Hilltop and find the Rick and Carl.

…

Daryl pulled his motorcycle off the road near the gates and stopped. Turning to help Beth step off, he shut off the engine and lowered the kickstand. Tilting the bike on its side, he stepped off his bike and turned towards the gates, looking for Dwight.

"Yo, Cooper," Daryl called up to the catwalk.

"Daryl?" A younger man with an Australian accent questioned.

"Yeah," Daryl replied, "You seen Dwight?"

"Yeah mate," Cooper replied, moving towards the ladder and climbing down to the ground, "He ran home for some dinner. Should be back any minute."

"Alright," Daryl nodded and took to leaning against his bike while they waited.

The sound of gravel crackling under rubber had Daryl looking up to see Michonne and Morgan pulling in behind them in Michonne's SUV.

"You want them t'wait for us?" Beth asked beside him.

"Nah," Daryl glanced past her to see Dwight slowly making his way back to the gates with a plate of food in his hands, "Tell 'em we'll catch up. Only take 'ah sec t'fill him in on what's goin' on."

"'Kay," Beth murmured and walked over to Morgan's side of the vehicle.

"What's up?" Cooper asked, signaling for the gates to be opened when Michonne flashed her lights.

"We're goin' t'Hilltop," Daryl replied, lifting a few fingers in a mock wave as Michonne drove past them.

"Somethin' happen?" Cooper questioned as he nodded to Michonne.

"Carl's thinkin' with tha' wrong head s'all," Daryl grunted in response.

"Ah," Cooper seemed to understand the gist of Daryl's comment, "How long you think you'll be gone?"

"Not sure," Daryl replied with a shrug.

He felt a pressure against his side as Beth leaned next to him on the motorcycle.

"You gonna' take the main road?" Cooper inquired before adding, "We haven't been sending out patrols, but I reckon it's clearer than the back roads."

Daryl eyed him for a moment before replying, "Yeah. I reckon it is."

"Well I'd love to stay and yabber, but I've got to go check the south wall," Cooper finished, clasping Daryl on the shoulder, "Take it easy."

"You too," Daryl answered.

"Cheers mate," Cooper removed his hand and turned to the blond beside him, "Good to see ya' Beth. Don't let this cheeky bastard get himself killed out in the bush."

"I won't," her statement sounding more like a question than a reply.

When Cooper was out of earshot, Beth turned to him and said, "I don't think I'll ever get used t'hearin' someone talk like that."

Daryl smirked.

"Hey man," Dwight called with a mouthful of food, "What're you doin' here? You ain't gotta' shift on the wall until later this week."

"We gotta' go t'Hilltop," Daryl cut right to the point.

" _Shit_ ," Dwight cursed, "What happened?"

"Rick and them met with Alpha. Gave 'er back her daughter," Daryl explained briefly, "Then Carl ran off and they think he went lookin' for her. 'Parently the two of 'em have a thing. Rick's out there lookin' for 'em."

"Teenage boys and their fuckin' hormones," Dwight grumbled before sounding more concerned, "Wait…you're takin' Beth _with_ you?"

"She refused t'stay behind," Daryl groused in reply.

"Sounds about right," Dwight smiled over at Beth, "Alright. So what d'you need me to do?"

"Keep this place on lockdown 'til we get back," Daryl answered, "I'll have Maggie radio you 'soon as we get there. Morgan and Michonne already left."

"Yeah," Dwight acknowledged while taking another bite of sausage, "Seen 'em drive past."

"We should be back in a few days," Daryl continued, "'Ah week tops."

"We'll be fine," Dwight waved his free hand, "You do what you need t'do. I'll make sure this place is still here when you get back."

"Thanks brother," Daryl felt an invisible weight life from his shoulders, "Radio if ya' need anything."

"Will do," Dwight replied, "You two be careful out there. We ain't had anyone goin' out on patrols. Roads are likely t'have some walkers on 'em."

"We will," Daryl assured and turned to life his bike of the kickstand.

"Beth," Dwight continued, "You take care 'ah him, you hear?"

"I will," Beth's sincerity filtered through her tone.

"Take care of yourself too," Dwight added.

"For fuck's sake Dwight," Daryl grumbled, swinging his leg over the seat of his bike, "We're traveling forty miles down tha' road. Not like we're movin' halfway 'ah cross the country."

"Yeah, yeah," Dwight sighed, "I know. Shit's different now though. Those bastards out there are vicious and you two have big ass targets on yer' backs."

"We'll be careful," Beth soothed before he could reply, "If somethin' happens, we'll handle it."

"You be sure that you do," Dwight answered in a fatherly tone.

Daryl rolled his eyes and lifted his foot to jumpstart his bike.

"We'll see ya' in 'ah few days," Daryl called over the rumble of the engine.

Dwight nodded and took a step back.

Letting off the brake and twisting the throttle, Daryl guided them through the gates and outside of the safety Alexandria's walls provided.

Beth's arms tightened around his stomach as Daryl opened the throttle wider and they increased speed. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and only when they had both Rick and Carl back at Hilltop safe and sound would he allow himself relax. With the wind wiping across his face and nothing but darkness in front of them, Daryl shifted gears and the engine of his bike echoed the emotions roaring in his chest. Leaving a trail of dust behind them as the thundered down the road, Daryl concentrated on maneuvering his bike to avoid the walkers stumbling down the road.

Michonne's taillights cut through the darkness ahead of them, but Daryl couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that came with their approach to Hilltop. He had no idea where to even begin looking for Rick and Carl, they were leading Beth and Morgan straight to the very people who wanted them dead, and he worried for Alexandria's safety with his absence.

Slowing down to dodge another walker, Daryl inhaled the sweet, night air and focused his thoughts. First they would talk to Maggie and Glenn, ascertain the approximate location of Alpha's camp, and find Rick and Carl. He could stick to the trees, stay in the shadows, and keep Beth out of sight. If he could do the both of those quickly enough, they could get back to Alexandria. Feeling less anxious, Daryl twisted his grip on the accelerator and pulled past Michonne.

With the sound of his engine echoing through the woods, Daryl removed his left hand from the handlebars and brought it to rest over Beth's, still wrapped around his stomach. Unclasping her hands, she threaded her fingers within his and he felt her chin rest atop of his shoulder. They'd get to Hilltop. They'd find Rick and Carl. They'd get everyone back safely or they'd die trying. It was as simple as that.

As Hilltop came into view, Daryl felt his stomach tighten, and he could barely make out of the words Beth murmured against his ear.

" _Ready or not Alpha…here we come."_

…

 **A/N:** Sooo…I'm still alive….YAAAAY! Lol. I know this chapter is long overdue, but between work, after school activities, being mom, and finding time to relax, it's been a struggle to find time to write. YES I am going to finish this story. Updates may be sporadic with lengthy periods in between, but I'm not going to stop writing.

Also many have sent me reviews asking about when I'm going to post For the Ones You Protect (Book 3 of the For the Ones trilogy). I have started on it, but I'm not posting anything until I finish H.O.P.E. I also have to finish Sometimes When Things Go Wrong. So you can expect H.O.P.E. to be around 30ish chapters, maybe more, maybe less, and once it is finished, I will begin pouring all my writing into For the Ones You Protect! It's been a long time coming, but I promise, I will write it!

*On to chapter notes! In the earlier chapters, I said it was 'about 'ah days ride to Hilltop.' That is on horseback/wagon. Daryl is taking his motorcycle. I doubt this would confuse anyone, but I just wanted to specify those little details in case anyone is like me and goes back to cross-reference things in a story!

*Reckon is Australian slang, much like we use here in the south, for think. So while it is a southern expression, it has a synonymous meaning in Australian. Just with an accent! : )

*Stay and yabber- Aussie slang for stay and talk.

*Cheeky bastard- bastard is actually generally used as a term of endearment while cheeky is used for someone with a smart mouth. It's also seen in many British texts/movies, but usually in more a derogatory capacity.

*the bush is any underdeveloped area; ie. forest.

No I am not Australian (born and raised in Texas), but I have friends who are and used what I've heard them say as reference to Cooper's conversation. Cooper is a character for earlier chapters. He came to Morgan and Beth about their first patrol outside of the walls.

I'm on Spring Break this week (perks of being a teacher) and I've already started on chapter 19! I can't promise I'll get it posted by Sunday, but I'm going to try my best! Hope you guys enjoyed this and I'm sorry it took me so long to get it posted! Send me some love and let me know what you thought of the chapter!


End file.
